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H 


E RUSHED TO THE ROAD WITH HIS LAN- 


TERN HELD HIGH ABOVE HIS HEAD." 


{See page 312.) 



THE 

Little Citizen 


By M. E. waller 


Illustrated by 

H. G. BURGESS 

V 


» » > > > > i i I 5 5 5^)5 

f-JJ i >«53 j>o5>« > 



Boston: Lothrop Publishing 
Company 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Recoveo 

MAY. 3i 1902 

COPVRIOHT ENTRY 

CLASS <^XXa No. 

33t>Z') 

COPY b/ 





COPYRIGHT, 

1902, 

By 

LOTH R 0 P 

PUBLISHING 

COMPANY. 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 




PUBLISHED 

May, 1902 


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b 


TO 

Rex and Nedy 

MY BOY FRIENDS 
AND BEST CRITICS 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

“ My-all-alone ” 




PAGE 

1 1 

II. 

Jacob Foss 




21 

III. 

Nance .... 




41 

IV. 

The Circus in the Back Pasture 


57 

V. 

The Last Rehearsal 




78 

VI. 

Black Bear Cave . 




97 

VII. 

Flight .... 




106 

VIII. 

The Circus in the Bowery 




125 

IX. 

The Freebooters . 




140 

X. 

John Anstey . 




154 

XI. 

The New Boarder 




162 

XII. 

The Vigilance Committee 




185 

XIII. 

The Verdict of the Jury 




200 

XIV. 

The 10.30 Mail 




209 

XV. 

In the Roost . 




217 

XVI. 

In Camp .... 




234 

XVII. 

The Still Hunt 




255 

XVIII. 

Summer Plans 




270 

XIX. 

The Husking . 




283 

XX. 

A November Night 




296 

XXL 

The Little Citizen 




315 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS, 


PAGE 

“ He rushed to the road with his lantern held high 

above his head''' .... Frontispiece ^ 

Miffins threw up his straw hat . . . in ecstasy of 
delight"''' ^ . . . . . . . . 92 

“ He worked his way down^ holding tightly by the 

rope" 190 ^ 

Amid excited talk and shouts of victory" . . 268 ✓ 


The Little Citizen 

CHAPTER I. 

My-All-Alone 
I, there ! Spikes ! ” 



A drawn, old-young face lifted itself 
from a pillow in the children’s ward in Bellevue 
Hospital, and a claw-like hand flapped frantically, 
if somewhat feebly, above the counterpane. 

“ Hi ! Spikes ! Bully fer yer ! Cornin’ ’long- 
side ? Did yer git a leg on yer ? ” 

There was no answer as the men brought the 
stretcher alongside the hospital cot, and Miffins 
subsided; only the deep-set gray eyes watched, 
ferret-like, every movement of the attendants. 

He had grown familiar with all the detail of 
hospital work in the last three months ; so 
familiar, that he criticised in a not too subdued 
voice the exertions of a “ freshie ” — so he had 
dubbed the new nurses in training — to place the 
hot-water bags aright. 


12 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Look a here, freshie, his feet ain’t there; yer 
got ’em too low. Spikes is shorter’n me. Huh! 
It’s a-leakin’ ! Spikes’s pegs don’t want no 
washin’, I tell yer. P’r’aps he ain’t got ’em to 
wash! Lemme see.” 

He squirmed about, trying ineffectually to raise 
himself on his elbow, but sank back exhausted 
with the effort. 

‘‘Well, Miffins, how are you this morning?” 
The visiting surgeon bent over the cot, and smiled 
cheerily into the queer, drawn face. 

“ Bloomin’, Wot’s got Spikes? ” 

“ The ‘ grip ’ again ; — got him where it got 
you, only it didn’t let go this time.” 

“ Got’er lose one’r his pegs ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Huh! Wuz he bridgin’?” 

“ Yes, — tried your leap from the ‘ grip ’ of 
one train to the ‘ trailer ’ of another, poor fellow.” 

“ Can’t do as much as I can, can he? ” 

“ No, — and yes.” 

“Wot yer givin’ us?” 

“ I mean he’ll have a wooden leg, and can 
stump it ; while you — ” 

“ Wot ’bout me? ” 

“ Well, Miffins, you’ll have to do a good deal 
of sitting around for a few years. You can’t 
splice a twisted thigh as you can a rope and use 
it much, you know.” 


MY~ ALL- ALONE 


13 


No jollyin’?’^ 

“ Fm telling you truly; and I thought, Mif- 
fins, Fd better tell you now, that you might have 
time to think about it before you’re discharged.” 

“ Yer mean they’re goin’ ter ship me? ” 

Yes, you’ll be able to go in four weeks.” 

‘‘ Go where ? ” 

The heart of the strong man quivered at the 
boy’s question. Where should he go, this news- 
boy waif, known only as Miffins, whose reckless- 
ness had thrown him beneath the cable-car, and 
crippled him for life? But the surgeon’s voice 
was steadily cheery as he replied: 

Fve been thinking about that, Miffins, and 
I am going to send a friend of mine to you this 
afternoon. She’ll talk it over with you.” 

Fd cut, only I can’t,” was Mififins’s dogged 
reply. “ I ain’t goin’ ter no Newsboys’ Home — 
not if I knows it.” 

The surgeon laughed. I don’t think she will 
ask you to, Miffins, but if you look at her that 
way, she will * cut.’ ” 

Miffins grinned. He could appreciate a bit 
of fun. 

Wot time’s she cornin’ ? ” 

About four. Good-by.” 

Miffins held out his apology for a hand. ‘‘ Give 
us yer flipper. I like the feel of it.” 

The little man and the great man shook hands. 


14 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Then Miflfins fell to thinking. That is, he stared 
at the hospital windows until the light looked 
black, and then gazed at the ceiling for the pas- 
time of seeing the huge squares reproduce them- 
selves there for a moment. That was queer, but 
not so queer as his other pleasure, which was, 
when his eyes were weakened with the light, 
to shut them and watch the strange play of purple 
and green and yellow that went on beneath his 
closed lids. Red spots, that swelled, so it seemed 
to him, to the size of toy balloons, disappeared 
in a whirl of purple, always running down-hill 
toward his left ear. Curious flecks of bright 
yellow, rayed about like the headlight of an 
engine in a foggy night, rushed across the closed 
lids and vanished — always down-hill — toward 
his left ear. During the months of pain, he had 
amused himself by the hour watching this strange 
play of light. 

“ Sittin’ 'round,” he muttered, “ wot'll I do 
sittin’ ’round ! ” He chuckled. The humor of 
the situation struck him, that he, Mifflns, who had 
been on his feet all his life, should spend even 
a part of it sittin’ ’round.” Then he slept. 

That afternoon the surgeon’s friend, a young 
woman who figured as a member of various chari- 
table organizations, among them ‘‘The Society 
for Providing Country Homes for Waifs,” sat 
by the cot, and told Miffins of the life that was 


MV- ALL -ALONE 


15 


open to him in the country. She laid it before 
him in terms that, in part, were as Greek to 
Miffins; and Miffins listened because she was 
pretty and he liked her voice. What he gathered 
from that visit he made plain to the surgeon 
the next morning as follows: 

“ She said as how I’d have no pal, ’coz there 
ain’t no sech kids as me up there. No cock-fights 
— ’thout there was a barnyard one — wot’s that?” 

The surgeon explained, and Miffins’ s eyes 
sparkled. 

'‘No cops and no scabbies — nothin’ but old 
duffers like them wot gives yer the free bite and 
turkey at the Christmas shindy down ter the 
Home; ’n’ yer can swipe apples right ’long on 
the street; ’n’ she gives yer a free ride up there, 
sittin’ inside, yer mind. I’ll go,” said Miffins, 
suddenly, and the surgeon wondered at the appar- 
ent willingness with which he made up his mind 
to leave the city — this waif of the New York 
streets, who, for mother’s milk, had been brought 
up on the rush and roar of the metropolitan 
thoroughfares. 

But Miffins said to himself : " ’N’ if I want 
ter cut. I’ll cut ! ” 

Four weeks from that day, a morning train 
for the East, moving out of the Grand Central 
Station, bore a small boy of thirteen, whose pale 
face and shrunken, twisted body contrasted pain- 


i6 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


fully with the crimson upholstered seats. Beside 
him were two crutches, as yet unused, and in his 
hand he clutched a four-quart, brown paper bag, 
containing six apples, four bananas, a half-dozen 
ham sandwiches, two sticks of chewing-gum, 
one pint of peanuts, and four buttered muffins. 

A card, some three inches square, was sewed 
on his blouse, and announced : 

“To all whom it may concern. The wearer, 
Miffins, discharged this first day of July, eight- 
een hundred and ninety — , from Bellevue 
Hospital, New York, is consigned by the New 
York Society for Providing Country Homes for 
Waifs, to Jacob Foss of Hurdyville, Chittenden 
County, Vermont, via . N. Y., N. H., & H. ; 
C. R. V.; C. V. R. R., due at nearest railway 
station, Barnet, at 6 p. m. Conductors please 
note change of cars. 

“ Per order, James Blank, 

“ Secretary of Society for Providing 
Country Homes for Waif si 

The train was an hour late. A hot-box and a 
hot July day kept company, and even the train- 
boys, the candy, smelling-salts, popcorn, and 
magazine venders were almost silenced by the 
heat and dust. 

All through that stifling summer day Miffins 


MY- ALL- ALONE 


17 


sat by the open window, unmindful of the soot 
and cinders, but alive to all else that passed with- 
out and within. 

“ Guess they don’t know it’s me,” he said to 
himself as he looked on his spoils, preparatory 
to putting them into the empty, brown paper bag. 

“ Zooks ! if this comes ’er sittin’ ’round. I’d 
better keep on sittin’.” He chuckled as he counted 
over his silver bits. 

Passengers from the drawing-room car just 
ahead had looked pityingly upon the crippled boy 
as they passed through the aisle, and more 
than one, returning, had pressed a bit of silver 
into his hand. Miffins winked knowingly at one 
and another, but was inwardly amazed at getting 
“ tips ” for nothing. 

“ Three shiners, two spots, two no-goes, and a 
cracker ; ” which, interpreted, meant three quar- 
ters, two ten-cent pieces, two half-dollars, and 
a dollar. 

These he put into his pocket. Into the bag 
there went two apples and some cookies, gifts 
from an old woman who had called him 
sonny ; ” a large popcorn-ball trickling with 
molasses, contributed by a train-boy; a hand- 
ful of sticky spruce gum, which a country lad 
had dislodged with great difficulty from the 
pockets of his rustic trousers; an automatic top 
that a little palace-car gentleman, in white duck 


i8 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


and a sailor-hat, urged him to accept, saying 
he could get plenty more at home; two white 
cotton handkerchiefs, with which an elderly 
maiden had wished to wipe his cinder-and-soot- 
begrimed face, but which, upon his decided re- 
fusal to comply with her request, she had slipped 
into his blouse, with the remark, Mebbe you’ll 
want to clean up before you see your folks.” At 
which Miffins grinned, saying nothing, not even 
a word of thanks. 

Last, but not least, he stowed away two baby 
rabbits, white as wool, which a little girl had 
given him late in the afternoon. The mother 
had come with the child to Miffins’s seat. 

My little girl wants to give you her rabbits. 
She has more at home, and was taking them to 
her cousin Jimmy, but she says she would rather 
you had them, if you would like them. She 
can send Jimmy two others; she has six at 
home.” 

Mififins looked up in amazement at the sweet- 
voiced woman, and down at the bit of a girl, 
whose curly head came just above the arm of 
the seat, and whose little hands were full of 
something downy-white and pink. She dropped 
the soft balls into his lap. 

‘‘ Fm sowwy for ’oo. Tan’t ’oo wun?” she 
said. Then, seized with sudden shyness, she hid 
her face in the folds of her mother’s dress, and 
was led away. 


MV- ALL ^ ALONE 


19 


The brown paper bag was comfortably full; 
still there was one more treasure which it could 
not hold. 

The conductor had told the baggage-master 
of his crippled charge in the day-coach, and, 
when the hot-box delayed the train an hour at 
one of the way stations, a man came in for a 
look at the '' waif.” 

“ Well, little chap, you look as if you needed 
some air,” he said. “ Guess we’ll take a con- 
stitutional ; ” and with that, he lifted Miffins as 
easily as if he had been a dress-suit case, and 
carried him out upon the shaded platform of 
the station. Here he walked up and down with 
him in his arms for a quarter of an hour, and 
then, having made him known to the station- 
agent, laid him down upon a pile of burlap, 
which he had placed in the shade of a fine maple 
that grew near the track. 

It was a pleasant change from the overheated 
car, and Miffins, stretched at length, tired out 
with the long journey and the continual ache 
in his hip and back, fell asleep. 

Something soft, dragging over his face, awak- 
ened him. He put up his hand, and lo! a few 
weeks old puppy, a baby collie, tawny-coated, 
uncertain-eyed, unsteady on his pudgy legs. 

‘‘ Huh ! ” Miffins tried to sit up, but failed. 

He’s a peach. Lemme feel ! ” 

The station-master righted the puppy, that had 


20 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


rolled over on his back in consequence of Mif- 
fins’s sudden movement, and placed him in the 
boy’s arms. 

He’s yours to keep, Miffins. I’ve got a boy 
at home who raises ’em, and sells ’em for five 
dollars apiece down your way. He’ll fetch and 
carry for you when he’s a little older, and I 
guess you’ll need it more’n my boy.” 

Miffins’s surprise made him dumb. 

“ Don’t want no thanks ; you’re more’n wel- 
come. Come, it’s time you was inside.” 

And now Miffins took his sleepy treasure in 
his arms, for the brakeman had called, “ Barnet, 
Barnet.” The train thundered over a bridge, 
rushed around a sharp curve, slackened speed, 
and drew to a two minutes’ halt, during which 
Miffins and the puppy, the crutches and brown 
paper bag were somehow gathered up into the 
baggage-master’s capacious embrace, and gently 
deposited on an empty truck on the platform. 


CHAPTER II. 

Jacob Foss 


T T was seven o’clock, and Jacob Foss had 
^ waited an hour already at the station. 

“ I come down fer feed, and ter git a boy 
from New York,” he explained to the station- 
agent. 

“ They call ’em waifs. Marthy, she’s ben set 
on hevin’ one fer nigh four years. I ain’t 
nothin’ agin it ez I know on, but I don’t hanker 
arter it ez she does; fer, arter all, I tell her it’s 
’sperimentin’ with what yer don’t know nothin’ 
’bout. 

“ ’Tain’t like own folks, this takin’ a child 
out er that great Babel — kinder grab-bag busi- 
ness anyway — but Marthy’s bed her way this 
time, ’n’ I ain’t goin’ to go agin her.” 

What’s his name ? ” 

Miffins. Sorter heathenish, ain’t it? I guess 
Marthy’ll change it.” 

He’ll be good help fer ye, mebbe.” 

O Lord, no ! He ain’t no help. Marthy 


22 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


wuz kinder skeered to take a right healthy chap, 
fer fear he’d git the neighbors’ children inter 
mischief. P’r’aps he’d run away. I’ve hearn 
of sech doin’s. Dretful oneasy critters. Whoa, 
Ethan!” 

He flicked a fly from the horse’s ear. 

“ Marthy she’s cute; got good jedgment, too. 
She wrote ter the s’ciety ter send her a crip- 
ple, coz, says she, ‘ Ef he’s a cripple, he can’t 
run away, no more’n he can git ’round to git 
other children inter mischief ’ — The train’s er 
cornin’. Stan’ still, Ethan; whoa there, no gim- 
cracks, ’thout yer want ter feel this lash.” 

Jerusalem ! ” he muttered, as he saw the bag- 
gage-master place his armful of helplessness 
carefully on the truck. 

‘‘ Je-ru — ” his exclamation ended in a long 
whistle, which encouraged Ethan to snort and 
rear as the train steamed away, and gave Jacob 
Foss all he could well attend to for the next 
five minutes. 

When the horse had ceased his gymnastics, 
Jacob called over to Miffins, who had watched 
the fun from the platform : 

I’ll be back in five minutes. Yer jest stay 
whar yer be till I git this durned critter quiet,” 
and he drove off and disappeared around a turn 
of the road. 

Wot’s the old duffer er givin’ me, tellin’ me 
to stay here, when he knows I can’t leg it?” 


JACOB FOSS 


23 


Miffins demanded of the ticket-agent, who came 
out to look at him after locking the station door. 

“ Oh, he don’t mean nothin’. Guess he warn’t 
expectin’ jest sech ez you.” 

“ He warn’t, warn’t he ? ” mimicked Miffins, 
with a growl, for he was tired and cross, and 
to relieve himself, shook his fist at the turn of 
the road when he saw the farm-wagon reappear- 
ing. “ Yer bet yer life, he don’t say that ter 
me widout my gittin’ even wid ’im.” 

Jacob, having hitched Ethan, came up to the 
truck and stared at Miffins. 

Miffins took him in with one glance of his 
ferret-like eyes. 

Hello, old Hayseed.” 

Jacob said nothing. 

“ Hello, I say ; don’t yer look too long, er 
yer eyes’ll drop out uv yer head.” 

‘‘ Sho ! ” said Jacob, and drew the back of 
his hand across his eyes. “ It does make ’em 
water ter look at ye; that’s a fact.” The puppy 
set up a dismal wail, for he was tired and hungry. 

'' Sho ! ” the man repeated, this time under 
his breath, and, taking the puppy up by the 
nape of his neck, he looked him over with an 
appreciative eye. 

Miffins felt he had met his match, and watched 
him in silence, as he laid hold of the truck, and 
pushed it carefully across the platform. 

‘‘ Wal, sonny, guess we’d better be gittin’ 


24 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


’long. It’s ben a scorcher, but the nights air 
mighty sharp in these parts, ’n’ the dew’s er 
failin’. The pup’ll hev ter wait fer his supper. 
Be yer hungry?” 

“ No,” said Miffins, ‘‘ I’ve got grub ’nough 
here.” He showed his bag. 

“ Wal, then, in with ye. Ye’ve ben settin’ 
round all day, and the nex’ six mile’ll be easier 
ef ye stretch right out on this ’ere buffalo-robe. 
I’ve put a good shake-down er hay under it, 
and the wagon hez springs.” 

He lifted Miffins as carefully as he would 
handle a cracked egg, and laid him down on 
the robe. 

“ I take it ye ain’t hungry jest now, ’n’ if 
ye want ter sleep, jest sleep. I’ll look out fer 
the pup ” — he reached over for the collie — 
he’ll make ’n A No. i dog fer tending sheep 
arter he’s cut his wisdom teeth. What’s his 
name? ” 

“ Ain’t got any ez I knows on,” said Miffins, 
who began to think the “ old hayseed ” knew a 
thing or two. 

“ Wal, how ye’re er goin’ ter bring him up 
ef he hain’t no name? He ain’t er goin’ to 
run fer sheep ef he hain’t no name.” 

Wot’s sheep ? ” said Miffins. 

“ What’s sheep, sonny ? Umph — I alius 
knowed a city chap wuz durned ign’rant, but 


JACOB FOSS 


25 


I didn’t think he wuz er reg’lar muttonhead. 
Dunno what a sheep is? Lord! I must tell 
Marthy thet. Wal, sonny, it’s a critter ez’ll 
clothe yer, or feed yer, or put money in the 
bank fer yer, jest ez ye look at it. I’ll show 
yer some a piece up. Git erlong, Eth! 

Here, yer fidget, guess thet’s ez good er 
name ez any fer yer; yer set here ’longside er 
me, ’n’ sleep, too, ef yer want ter.” 

He lifted his old straw hat, and took out a 
faded bandanna from the crown. With this, he 
made the sleepy puppy fast to the board seat, and 
so ensured him against accident. 

Han’ me yer feed, sonny, ’n’ I’ll put it down 
here in the corner, so ’twon’t go jolting out 
over thank-yer-marms.” 

Miffins handed up the brown paper bag. 

Jacob took it, and the rabbits squirmed under 
his firm hold. 

“ Je-ru I What in thunder hev yer got here? ” 

The farmer opened the bag, and found the 
baby rabbits trying to free themselves from 
spruce-gum, seed-cakes, handkerchiefs, and ap- 
ples. 

‘‘Two more critters ez needs sleep! Won- 
der what Marthy’ll say! Any more live stock, 
sonny ? ” 

Miffins grinned. 

“ Wal, ef ye’re got no more s’prise parties. 


26 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


guess ye’d all four better settle down ’n’ go 
ter sleep. We’ve got a purty steep pull before 
us.” 

The sun was low, in fact had set behind the 
higher hills, leaving the winding river road in 
shadow. Robins, thrushes, and bobolinks made 
the darkening woods ring with their even-songs. 
The East Branch ran beside the highway, and 
added its gurgle to the twilight sounds. 

Miffins was worn out, and fell asleep during 
the first quarter of a mile. 

The puppy snuggled up to Jacob’s side and 
did likewise. The rabbits, having been placed 
in the capacious pocket of the farmer’s old great- 
coat, had ceased to squirm, and nestled comfort- 
ably in what, doubtless, they mistook for a 
burrow. 

Jacob looked around with a satisfied smile. 
“ Wal,” he said to himself, “ guess, fer a spell, 
it’ll be all quiet on the Potomac,” and therewith 
he chuckled, for he was a Grand Army man, 
and knew whereof he spoke. 

For five miles he drove on with slack rein, 
pondering what Marthy would say to all these 
additions to her household. Only once he 
stopped, to water the horse before turning up 
the hill road, a long pull and a hard pull, with 
frequent waits on the water-bars for Ethan to 
recover his wind. 


JACOB FOSS 


27 


Ethan knew every foot of the road, both in 
summer heat and winter snows, and during his 
comfortable life of fourteen years, he had never 
had occasion to shy at unwonted sights on the 
quiet, unfrequented hill road. 

But to-day the unexpected happened. 

Jacob, lost in thought, was leaning over the 
low board that served for a dasher, his elbows 
resting on his knees, his old straw hat pushed 
back from his forehead that he might feel what 
little breeze there was. Suddenly Ethan stopped, 
and shied with such prompt energy that the 
farmer was almost unseated, and the drowsy 
puppy was thrown out over the wheel, and hung 
by the bandanna, too thoroughly choked by the 
sudden tightening of the band about his neck 
to utter a sound. 

Whoa-a-a ! What in thun— whoa-a ! Stan’ 
still, I tell yer. What fool thing ails yer, Eth ! ” 

Ethan stood still, but snorted frantically. 

The farmer leaned over and rescued the stran- 
gling puppy. 

The setting sun shone full upon a spot of 
flaming red among the bushes on the side of 
the road to the left, and the bushes and brakes 
were in a strange state of agitation. 

To his equine imagination, Ethan had seen 
“ spooks,” and the farmer himself looked little 
less than dazed, as the bushes opened and an 


28 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Italian organ-grinder, with an organ on his back 
and a monkey on his shoulder, stepped out into 
the road, and, cap in hand, saluted the farmer. 

The sudden lurch of the cart and Jacob’s 
vociferous shouts had roused Miffins, and, rais- 
ing himself on his elbow, he looked about him, 
bewildered to recognize a Dago on a Vermont 
hilltop. He took in the situation at a glance, 
and, beginning to scent some fun, lay low again 
to witness it. 

The Italian was a handsome fellow, smooth- 
faced and merry-eyed, with a flashing smile and 
a grace of gesture that at once won Jacob Foss. 

And the monkey! He ducked his head, and 
doffed his apology for a cap. He patted his 
master’s head. He held out his tiny, nervous 
hand to Jacob. Suddenly he leaped from the 
Italian’s shoulder to the top of the organ; then, 
after turning a somersault, he drew a small pipe 
from his ragged blouse and placed it between 
his teeth; finally he pulled a basswood leaf from 
an overhanging branch, and, squatting on his 
haunches, proceeded to fan himself languidly, 
at the same time making faces alternately at 
Ethan and Jacob. 

“ Wal,” said Jacob, “ I dunno who yer be, 
but I like yer looks, an’ the little chap does seem 
sorter wilted. But, durn me, ef I know what 
thet infernal machine o’ yourn is ! ” 


JACOB FOSS 


29 


He jerked his whip-stock toward the organ. 
Checco comprehended the gesture at once, and 
pommelled Filippo’s shoulder with reviving en- 
ergy. His master, too, was sure he interpreted 
the man’s pantomime, and, setting the organ 
firmly on the ground, struck up the '' Anvil 
Chorus.” 

Ethan, the much-enduring, leaped wildly out 
of the road. 

Whoa-a-a-ah ! ” shouted the farmer. ‘‘ Burn 
the critter,” he muttered, plying the lash freely 
about the animal’s loins. 

“ Whoa, I say ! He ain’t used ter these mod- 
ern gimcracks.” He threw this in as an apolo- 
getic aside to Filippo, who had hoisted himself 
and his silenced instrument' out of the vicinity 
of the various curves the horse’s hoofs were 
performing in mid-air. 

With some coaxing and more lash-tickling, 
Ethan was brought again into stable equilibrium. 
His quivering body, however, still described a 
curve on the off side, as he eyed askance the 
trio on the bank. From time to time, he snorted 
his indignation. 

Jacob got down from his seat, and, taking 
the horse by the bridle, pulled him (not without 
much planting of fore feet, however) across the 
road to the spot where the scarlet-panelled front 
of the organ gleamed like a witch’s cloak among 
the bushes. 


30 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Here, hold onter this critter, will yer, while 
I heft the music-box.” 

Filippo took the horse by the bridle, but gin- 
gerly, while Checco gyrated aimlessly from his 
master’s shoulder to the organ, and from the 
organ to the ground. 

‘‘ Sho ! it’s good seven stun,” he said, setting 
down the instrument with an increased respect 
of manner. Then, turning to Filippo, he said, 
kindly : 

“ Load up. Black Eyes, yer’ve got more 
brawn’n Fd give yer credit fur, ef yer dew 
wear ear-jewels.” He eyed the gold half-moon 
earrings with evident distrust. 

I guess we’ll make Eth pay the fiddler this 
time. He hain’t never backed with me yit, and 
I like yer tune. Come, git in, or I sha’n’t be 
ter home in time ter milk, and Marthy’ll fidgit.” 

This lengthy speech was accompanied by such 
intelligible pantomime that Filippo at once pro- 
ceeded to hoist his organ into the cart. 

Of all this, Miffins was an interested spectator. 

“ Hi, there ! yer Dago, look out fer my pegs, 
and set yer box so I kin see out.” 

Filippo smiled, and looked down pityingly on 
the small white face on the buffalo-robe. He 
sat down on the tail of the cart, with his back 
to the organ to steady it, and Jacob placed the 
little chap,” as he continued to call the monkey. 


JACOB FOSS 


31 


on the seat beside the puppy. This arrangement 
was not satisfactory; for, before the wagon 
could start, a prolonged wail from the puppy, 
followed by a sharp yelp, proved that his city 
neighbor had tweaked his budding tail. There- 
upon Miffins dealt the monkey a weak blow on 
the head, which knocked the dilapidated cap over 
one ear, and Checco, showing his teeth, broke 
into such a fury of chattering rage that Filippo 
rated him soundly in his choicest Italian, and, 
hitting him a clip with a small scourge, reduced 
him to grumbling silence. Jacob laughed aloud 
at this by-play, and, diving into his various pock- 
ets, brought out a piece of maple-sugar, which he 
gave to the monkey, at the same time removing 
him to the other side of the seat, where the little 
fellow forgot his rage in munching the sugar, 
and continued to fan himself with a contented 
air which charmed Jacob. 

“ Guess there’ll be music in the air ter-night 
up ter the old house,” he murmured to himself. 
‘‘ Things’ll hum with this load of live stock ! 
Wonder what Marthy’ll say!” But aloud, he 
said, suddenly turning to Filippo, and pointing 
ahead to a steep rise, while his face wrinkled 
with visible pleasure: 

Now, churn ahead. Black Eyes, an’ make it 
lively.” 

With his left arm, he described a circle in 
the air that plainly indicated his desire. 


32 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Ef the critter does back, I’ll fix him.” 

Bracing his feet against the low dasher, he 
swung his lash till it cut the air. ‘‘ Hud-up ! ” 

‘‘ Yez,” responded Filippo to the supposed 
word of command. 

Gaily the organ took up the interrupted phrase, 
and, as if the sledge-hammers of the chorus were 
falling in unison on his back, Ethan leaped for- 
ward, but only to pull powerfully up the hill. 

“ Thet’s right! Take us right up on the bits, 
old boy, an’ I guess ye’ll find thet this team’s 
got ter go ahead, ’n’ not waste time shiftin’ 
roun’ inter gulleys,” remarked the farmer, grimly 
rejoicing over his victory. 

“ Thet’ll dew fer now,” he said, when, having 
jerked the “ Anvil Chorus ” to its close, Filippo 
stopped to wipe the perspiration from his face 
and neck. 

’Tain’t so easy running thet machine up-hill, 
and we don’t want it ter run down jest yit, fer 
it’s a-goin’ ter tickle the wife’s ear in a minute,” 
he said, with a chuckle at his own wit. 

He turned to look at Filippo, and, observing 
his perplexed face, — for the Italian had under- 
stood but few words of this speech, — he queried, 
almost wistfully: 

‘‘ I take it ye’re goin’ ter put up with us ter- 
night, ain’t yer ? ” 

Filippo, still in doubt as to what the ques- 


JACOB FOSS 


33 

tion meant, was considering whether or no to 
smile on uncertainty. 

Ther’z plenty uv fodder fer all on ye,” he 
went on ; ‘‘I ken give yer a good ’nough place 
ter sleep in. Ef yeou ain’t hungry, mebbe the 
little chap is.” 

Filippo’s captivating smile came out from its 
eclipse. He laid his hand on his heart to show 
his gratitude, and then on his stomach to in- 
dicate his desire, and answered, sweetly: 

“ I vill zleep in zee barn, zaire, me ant Checco, 
if you be so good.” 

Hearing his name, Checco arose, cap in hand, 
to pay his respects, but a sudden lurch over a 
“ thank-you-marm ” pitched him over the low 
dasher, where he clung desperately to Ethan’s 
tail, undaunted by the forcible left-legger that 
long-suffering animal immediately let fly. 

‘‘ Burn ye,” grumbled Jacob, rescuing the 
monkey with careful hand; then looking around 
to Filippo with an approving nod, he said: 

“ Thet’s right, talk ahead. Black Eyes. I wuz 
feared yer wuz one uv them dumb heads, ez 
uses their ten fingers fer one tongue.” 

“ Yez, zaire,” responded Filippo only too will- 
ingly. Me and Checco iz haf holy-day in zis 
bella lant.” 

‘‘ H’m ! Hud-up, Eth. Job’s roaster ! But 
the feller’s jargon beats me,” he ejaculated under 
his breath. 


34 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Possibly a like thought was in Filippo’s mind, 
but he refrained from giving it expression. Too 
much was at stake. 

Evidently they were nearing some habitation, 
for Checco became greatly agitated by the ap- 
pearance of fowls of all kinds. A sharp turn 
in the road brought them' into the front yard. 
A woman, standing in the doorway of the long, 
low farmhouse, threw up both hands: 

‘‘ Land sakes alive, father, what hev you got 
there?” 

Somethin’ ter ’liven us up, Marthy, fer I 
thought we wuz gittin’ a leetle mite rusty livin’ 
alone. Here, mother, here’s yer boy.” 

His voice grew husky as he spoke the word 

mother,” and the woman’s eyes filled and over- 
flowed as she followed the cart around to the 
back stoop, and watched her husband gather the 
homeless, crippled waif into his arms with strong, 
tender care. Then she spoke: 

Bring him right inter the little bedroom of¥ 
the kitchen, father; I’ve got everything ready 
for him, an’ you go and tend, ter the rest on 
’em.” 

Jacob placed Miffins in a huge armchair — a 
great-grandfather’s chair with high back and pro- 
tecting side-wings, that stood by the bed; then 
he went out to attend to his other guests. 

Martha Foss’s heart swelled within her. She 


JACOB FOSS 


35 


had not dreamed of such helplessness, and, re- 
membering her own sturdy little lad, her one 
ten-year-old who had been laid away on the lit- 
tle hill behind the house some eighteen years ago, 
and on whose grave the June roses were even 
then in blossom, she stooped, and, taking the 
small, wasted, old-young face between her hands, 
kissed the white lips with all a mother’s tender- 
ness. Then she hurried away, for she heard 
Jacob calling to her. 

Miffins never remembered to have been kissed 
before, and he obeyed his first impulse. With 
the back of his hand he rubbed his lips, and 
then puckered them for a long, low whistle. 

‘‘ Zooks ! ” he said to himself, ‘‘ this takes the 
cake,” and his eyes brightened as he caught sight 
of the tea-table in the kitchen. He heard Martha 
come in, and Jacob following her, saying: 

“ Set the vittles right on, marm. The little 
chap’s hungry, ter say nothin’ of us bigger ones. 
Put on the best yer got, an’ all on it, marm. 
’Tain’t every day we have a furriner on the 
hill.” Then he called to Filippo: 

“ Now, we’ll have a wash-up. Come inter the 
shed.” 

Footsore, weary, dirt-begrimed, Filippo and 
Checco entered the cool, roomy shed, filled with 
the fragrance of spruce and birch and well-sea- 
soned pine. 


36 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Following the example of their host, they 
plunged their faces, necks and arms into the 
sparkling spring water that gurgled , as waste 
from the kitchen spout into a broad, shallow 
wooden trough. 

Then Filippo took Checco and retired with him 
behind a convenient wood-pile. Opening his 
pack, he took out his clean shirt, with its frilled 
front, and the gaily embroidered peasant- jacket 
— the toil of loving hands in his far-away home. 
These he put on and knotted his scarlet sash about 
his belt. 

This apparel had been waiting for just such 
an occasion, when the best should be none too 
good to do honor to such courteous, ungrudging 
hospitality, that places prince and peasant on a 
level not to be reached except by those who are 
like-minded. 

Checco, too, was transformed. From a hag- 
gard, woe-begone looking monkey in a suit of 
soiled corduroy, he blossomed into a little dandy, 
and flourished about in a gold-braided, blue vel- 
vet jacket, a scarlet silk vest, and frilled panta- 
lettes beneath green corduroy knee-breeches. 
•His beady eyes sparkled with delight, and, to 
give vent to his joy, he raced up the wood-pile 
and along the rafters to a convenient place for 
gymnastics, where he swung head downward, 
and performed many trapeze acts for his own 
benefit. 


JACOB FOSS 


37 


“ He seems a’most human, father,” said Mar- 
tha, who had been watching the monkey’s ablu- 
tions through a crack in the kitchen door. I’ve 
sot on three plates, but, fer the life of me, I don’t 
know what ter do fer that knowin’ beast ! ” 

‘‘ Put on another plate, marm, chiny, too. The 
best ain’t a mite too good fer him, a-earnin’ his 
little honest livin’ like the rest uv us God’s 
critters.” 

“ It seems sorter heathenish, father, ter be 
a-breakin’ bread with a dumb critter as goes part 
on twos and part on fours — but ef you say so, 
why, I don’t mind.” 

She laughed under her breath, as she whis- 
pered, “ He’s the livin’ image of old Deacon 
Simm’s Hally after he’d come back East sick 
with the fever ’n’ ager ! ” 

Come ter supper,” called Jacob into the 
woodshed. 

Miffins, cleansed from soot and cinders by 
Martha’s roughened but tender hands, reclined 
in the great-grandfather’s chair, and watched 
proceedings. 

First, Martha tucked a napkin under his chin, 
then she brought in and set before him a small 
three-legged table. Disappearing for a minute 
into the depths of the pantry, she reappeared 
carrying a tin tray covered with a coarse white 
napkin, and placed it on the table. 


38 


THE LITTLE CITIZEH 


There,” she said, with a satisfied air, “ eat 
your supper, and all you want to. I sha’n’t feel 
right ’bout ye till I see some flesh on your bones.” 

Miffins stared. 

There was a glass pitcher of creamy milk, a 
plate piled with warm, flaky biscuit, a saucer of 
Vermont chipped beef, an old-fashioned blue 
china bowl heaped with wild strawberries, a pat 
of golden butter, and two squares of sponge cake 
equally yellow. 

“ I guess you needn’t say grace ter-night, 
father,” said Martha, as she and her guests sat 
down at the well-provided table. Checco was 
placed in a little, old high-chair, and behaved 
like the little gentleman he was. But although 
he did not grab at any of the dishes or spill 
the water from his tin cup, he gave vent to his 
satisfaction and astonishment by continually grin- 
ning, first at Martha, then at Jacob, and constantly 
elevating the callosities over his eyes where 
his eyebrows should have been, and rolling his 
beady eyes in all directions. 

After supper, when Martha had “ cleared up,” 
and put Miffins into the middle of the white- 
sheeted, lavender-scented, downy feather bed, 
she and Jacob went out on the kitchen porch to 
listen to the music. 

Filippo took his stand beneath the great elm, 
midway between the porch and the road. Checco 
ran up into the branches and ceased his chatter. 


JACOB FOSS 


39 


The moonlight, falling through the foliage of 
the elms and maples, checkered all the grass-plat 
with its white light, and a gentle breeze showered 
the petals of the full-blown June roses, climbing 
over the porch, upon the two heads beneath. 

Then it was Filippo’s turn to give pleasure. 
He played with his warm Italian heart, as well 
as his crank. One after another the tunes fol- 
lowed without interruption : “The Anvil Chorus,” 
“ Silver Threads among the Gold,” “ The Mar- 
seillaise,” “ ’Way Down upon the Suwanee 
River,” “ Marching through Georgia ” (Jacob 
leaped to his feet at that, but said never a word. 
His feet, however, kept time, tramp, tramp, — 
for years ago he had marched with Sherman to 
the sea) ; at last — and then Martha reached over, 
and laid her hand lovingly on Jacob’s knotty, toil- 
hardened one — Filippo played “ Nearer, My 
God, to Thee.” 

The tears rolled down Jacob’s cheeks. It had 
been a great evening on the hill. 

“ Play that agin,” he said, in a husky voice, 
and Filippo obeyed, while Jacob stole away to 
the little mound behind the house near the 
orchard, and stood there with his hands behind 
his back, looking down upon the roses faintly 
colored in the moonlight that transfigured all 
the place and, in Jacob’s memory, the merry face 
of his ten-year-old boy. 


40 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Miffins, waif of the streets of New York, fell 
asleep to the tune of ‘‘ ’Way Down upon the 
Suwanee River,” floating forth in the still night 
over the green hills of Vermont. 


CHAPTER III. 

Nance 

' I ''HE next morning, Jacob Foss hung a stout 
canvas hammock between the supports of 
the kitchen porch, and placed Miffins in it. 

You lay there a spell,” he said, as he tested 
the ropes, it’ll do yer good. I’m going to 
hitch up double an’ carry Black Eyes an’ the little 
chap a piece over the mountin. I sha’n’t be back 
’fore noon. Guess yer won’t be lonesome ’fore 
then. I say, Marthy, put up a bite fer these two 
critters while I hitch up.” 

As they drove out of the yard, Filippo with his 
hand on his heart, bowing his thanks to Martha 
Foss, Checco gyrating wildly from the organ to 
his master’s shoulder, his little cap tilted over 
his left ear, his tail straight with the excitement 
of the moment, Miffins wished with all his heart 
he were going, too. And when Martha had 
returned to her work somewhere in the back 
regions of the woodshed, Miffins left to himself, 
fell to thinking. 


41 


42 . 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


How still it was! Miffins turned uneasily in 
the hammock. He wondered how Spikes was 
coming on. He thought of his pals,” and the 
curbstone jokes while they waited for their even- 
ing papers. He would have given all his silver 
bits for the sound of an ambulance gong. And 
oh! for one sight of Engine No. 9, three horses 
abreast, dashing madly across the Square! If 
he might hear, just once, the toot- toot! If he 
might see the trailing smoke and the helmeted 
firemen and the hook-and-ladder “ monkeys ! ” 
He longed for the free fight outside the saloon in 
the alley, when the boys formed a ring about the 
combatants, and jeered and hooted, or howled 
encouragement! And the treat all around at the 
corner grocery afterward, and the cigar-stumps, 
how good they were! 

Miffins felt something queer in his throat, — 
one lump — two lumps. He swallowed hard, 
but it didn’t seem to help much. 

Without knowing it, Miffins was homesick; 
homesick for the city sights and sounds where 
he had never had a home. He forgot the sick- 
ening heat of the summer when he slept behind 
a pile of boards on one of the piers. He forgot 
the days when trade was poor, and one meal — 
a scant one at that: rotten bananas and stale 
buns — kept him moving for twenty-four hours. 
He recalled no longer the bitter winter nights 


NANCE 


43 


when he stood at the ferry chilled to the marrow 
with the driving sleet. He had ceased to remem- 
ber the nights spent — huddled with his chums 
for warmth — in a straw-filled packing-box at 
the back of the Water Street warehouses. He 
forgot it all in his longing for what to him was 
his life. 

The lumps multiplied. Miffins could swallow 
them no longer. He clutched his throat — then 
a cry, resonant, blood-curdling: 

‘‘ Extraw ! Extraw ! Hall — about — the 
Bleecker Street — murdaw ! ” 

Back from the surrounding hills came the triple 
echo, “ Bleecker Street murdaw — murdaw — 
daw.” 

Miffins drew a long breath. With that familiar 
cry the lumps had disappeared. He felt better. 
The puppy, rudely awakened from his after - 
breakfast nap on the edge of the porch, lost his 
balance, and fell over among Martha’s flower- 
pots, begonias, and fuchsias, yelping pitifully. 

Martha came running from the woodshed, 
white and trembling. 

“ For the land sakes ! ” she cried, sitting down 
on the step, for her weak knees could support 
her no longer, what was that?” 

“ Me,” said Miffins, somewhat sheepishly, for 
he had not meant to frighten any one. 

But what did you use that awful word for? 


44 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


It’s give me a turn I sha’n’t git over soon.” She 
wiped the soap-suds from her arms with her 
apron, and drew a long breath. “ What did you 
holler so for ? ” 

“ I dunno,” said Miffins. I didn’t know I 
hollered like that; it sounds louder here. When 
me an’ the kids are yellin’ extraws we don’t 
never think ’bout nothin’ but a-yellin’ loudest.” 

“ I s’pose ’tis kinder different up here,” said 
Martha. ‘‘ I hain’t never been in one o’ them 
great Babels, but I’ve read about ’em. What do 
you do with yerself all day? ” 

Miffins told her, and the more he told the better 
he felt. He told her of the “ shows ” in the 
Bowery, and the circus and the parades; of run- 
away trolleys and the park police on their bicycles ; 
of his own “ pals ” and the fun they had at the 
expense of the “ cabbies; ” of Fourth of July fire- 
works and street bands. But of his hunger and 
misery and cold he said never a word. 

Martha listened intently, now and then inter- 
rupting the recital with a ‘‘ Land sakes alive ! ” 
and narrator and listener were both deep in the 
details of a cock-fight in the cellar of a Water 
Street grocery when Jacob drove into the yard, 
with a cheery, “ Dinner ready, marm ? ” 

Martha threw up her hands, and hurried away 
talking to herself. “What’ll Jacob say! Here 
I be a-settin’ all the forenoon list’nin’ to sech 


NANCE 


45 

things — an’ my tubs full, an’ not a potater biled 
for dinner.” 

‘‘ I guess, father, you won’t have to go up to 
the back paster to call the cows this summer. 
We’ve got a boy here ez can raise the dead 
a’most, he’s got sech lungs. I thought last night 
when I see him he wuz a-goin’ inter a decline — 
but I hain’t no fears sence I heard him holler 
this mornin’.” 

“ We’ll work him in leetle by leetle, marm; I 
ain’t a mite feared but we can make somethin’ 
of him in time. We’ll pad him out a leetle fust, 
though, with lots of good cream and johnny- 
cakes and pancakes and maple syrup. I’m goin’ 
ter take him up ter the back paster after dinner. 
The smell of them pines an’ spruce’ll do him 
good; give him an appetite, I reckon.” 

Jacob Foss’s farm was the highest in the town- 
ship. It lay on the southern slope of Beaver Tail 
Mountain, and his land extended to the summit. 
To the south the ground sloped toward the valley 
of the East Branch, and the house overlooked the 
valley east and west for six miles. 

Back of the house were the barns and vegetable 
garden; beyond those the orchard climbed the 
slope; above that, walled and gated, stretched 
the '' home pasture,” where the milch cows were 
kept; and above that the “sugar patch,” ten 
acres of noble sugar maples. Still beyond. 


46 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


crowning the summit of Beaver Tail, were dense 
woodlands, — Jacob’s pride, his “wood-lot,” 
from which he drew his revenue, — and to the 
north of the woodland lay the back pasture, where 
Jacob kept his colts, yearling cattle, and sheep. 

A good wood road, though steep, led to the 
summit of the mountain, and after dinner Jacob 
harnessed Ethan into a kind of wood-sled on 
wheels, something like a Maine “jigger,” and 
drove up there with Miffins and the puppy, a bag 
of salt for his stock and sheep, and a new halter 
for an unbroken colt. 

Having tied Ethan to the rail fence, Jacob 
took Miffins in his arms and carried him into the 
shade of a group of pines at the edge of the 
woodlands. There he gathered a bushel or more 
of pine-needles, and placed Miffins in the midst 
of them. 

“ Thar, sonny, thet’ll be better’n medicine fer 
yer. Yer can see all over the paster from here, 
and ef I don’t come ’round within an hour or 
two, don’t yer fret. The colts’ll make friends 
with yer, an’ they’re gentle as kittens. Yer can 
do a little studying ’bout sheep, too, while yer 
’bout it. I’m goin’ ter salt the critters first, then 
I’m goin’ inter the wood-lot ter cut some spruce 
stakes. S’posing yer give that collie a lesson in 
sheep-tending? Yer can’t begin a minute too 
soon with ’em.” Jacob shouldered his axe and 


NANCE 


47 


bag of salt and crossed the pasture, calling the 
colts by name, calling the cattle and sheep, Co’ 
Bob, co’ Nap, co’ Bet, co’ boss, co’ boss, ca-duc, 
ca-duc.” 

As yet, Miffins had seen no living thing, but 
now, as if by magic, sheep and cattle came flock- 
ing from the shady spaces on the edge of the 
woods ; then suddenly he heard the thud of flying 
hoofs, and from out the trees at his right flashed 
three splendid specimens of horse-flesh. They 
raced down the slope, across the cup-like hollow, 
and up the farther side, manes flying, tails 
straight on the wind, necks arched. Miflins 
shouted in his excitement. It was better than 
the display of Engine No. 9’s three. 

In less time than it takes to tell it, Jacob was 
surrounded, followed to the fence on the farther 
side of the pasture, and nosed and breathed upon 
by dozens of velvety nostrils. At last he had 
satisfied them, and, climbing the fence, disap- 
peared in the woods. 

The colts turned slowly, and trotted gently 
across to Miflins’s corner. Suddenly they 
stopped, heads up, nostrils flaring ; then a wild 
snort from all three; they had discovered the 
newcomer. Turning tail, they galloped away 
to a safe distance to investigate. With a right- 
about wheel, which brought them into fine line 
directly opposite Miflins, they halted, sniffed the 


48 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


air, lifted a forefoot, pawed the ground, then 
slowly and quietly drew near the strange thing 
on the pine-needle heap. Nearer and nearer they 
drew, noses now close to the turf. Miffins stran- 
gled the puppy’s attempt to bark, and the colts 
lowered their soft noses and breathed all over 
him. 

What creatures they were! One a jet black, 
one a bright bay, — not a hair awry, — the third 
fawn-color and white, a real “ calico ” horse, 
than which Barnum or Forepaugh had nothing 
better to show. 

Miffins laid his free hand — the other was 
clutching the puppy’s throat — on the circus 
beauty’s mane, — it was soft like silk, — and was 
just about to venture a pat on the lovely crea- 
ture’s nose, when all three suddenly planted their 
forefeet, uncomfortably near, Miffins thought, 
erected heads, ears, tails, and, with furious 
snorts, wheeled, and were off like the wind. 

Miffins looked around to see what had caused 
the stampede, and there, balancing on the top 
rail of the five-barred gate, was the queerest 
specimen of a girl he had ever seen. 

She might have been fourteen or fifteen ; long- 
legged, red-haired, freckled, dressed in a yellow 
calico dress that she had outgrown by two feet, 
she swayed back and forth on the top rail un- 
mindful of the gathering wrath in Miffins’s face. 


NANCE 


49 

“ Git down from that ! ” were his first words 
of command. 

The girl swayed still more violently. Her sun- 
bonnet of green and white checked gingham was 
hanging by one string down her back. Her 
rapid motion detached it; it flew over the fence, 
and Miffins groaned. 

“ Git down from' that, I say,’^ he repeated, 
in a still louder tone. “ None o’ yer jollyin’ ; I 
won’t take it, d’yer hear ? ” 

The girl threw back her head, and a peal 
of laughter, merry and sweet as a chime of bells, 
rang out upon the still air. 

How can you help it ? ” she said. “ Here, 
take this. I’m not going to wear shoes in this 
pasture.” 

Still balancing herself, she stooped and loos- 
ened the lacing of her shoes, then tossed them 
one at a time after the sunbonnet. They fell 
unpleasantly near Miffins’s head. The stockings, 
coarse blue cotton ones, followed next, and then 
the girl, with a spring and a bound, landed near 
her belongings. Miffins winced. 

Seating herself, a la Turque, a few feet dis- 
tant from the boy, she leaned her elbows on her 
knees, her chin in the palms of her hands, and 
fixed her great gray eyes on our waif. Miffins 
returned the stare. 

Let’s see who can look longest,” she said, 


50 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


gravely, settling herself more solidly in her 
position. 

Now Miffins wasn’t going to be stumped by 
a girl, not if he knew it. So he let go the 
gasping puppy’s throat, clinched both fists, and 
shook them vigorously at the image opposite 
him. 

Look ’n’ be ! ” he shouted in his impo- 

tent wrath, and forthwith proceeded to stare his 
tormentor out of countenance. But he had reck- 
oned without his host. He looked and looked, — 
but the gray eyes never blinked. He was look- 
ing up, which was a disadvantage, for soon the 
sky line made his sight blur, and the queer image 
opposite turned all colors — green, blue, yellow, 
red. He felt his eyes beginning to water; he 
could no longer see her. He rolled over on his 
face, and, in his shame and misery, dug the toe 
of his right shoe into the turf. 

Where did you learn to swear ? ” a gentle 
voice asked close at his ear. 

Miffins kicked out with his best leg. 

Say, what are you mad about ? ” was the 
next question, asked this time in his ear. 

This was more than Miffins could bear. He 
rolled over and faced his tormentor. His eyes 
flashed dangerously. 

‘‘Wot did yer swing on that fence fer when 
I told yer to git down ? ” 


NANCE 


51 


The girl laughed so merrily that Miffins was 
afraid he should laugh, too, in another minute. 

“ Oh, fences are free around here ; didn’t you 
know that?” 

“ Yer scared away the colts.” 

“Well, what if I did? What is that to 
you ? ” she asked, in amazement. 

“ I wanted to see ’em close to — one’s a peach, 
a bloomin’ circus dandy. There he is now! Yer 
can see his head just over them bushes.” 

“ Oh, that’s Nap. I’ll have him over here in 
a minute if you want to see him,” and, with a 
hop, skip, and a bound, she was up and off across 
the pasture, her red curls flying, her long legs 
flashing white beneath the short yellow skirt, as 
she sped over the green turf. Miffins heard 
her calling to the tune of “ Yankee Doodle ” as 
she ran : 

“ Come Nap, Nap, Nap, Napoleon, 

Come get your white potato. 

Come Nap, Nap, Nap, Napoleon, 

Come quick whene’er I say so.” 

The girl held out her hand, and the colt came 
whinnying up to her. Her next performance 
nearly took Mifflns’s breath away. She laid hold 
of the long, light-brown mane, and trotted along 
by his side; then, with a bound, flung herself 
astride upon his back. Nap reared a little, not 
viciously, but in a way that mildly expressed 


52 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


his surprise, and then broke into a canter. How 
the girl managed to guide him, Miffins could 
not tell, but horse and rider galloped bravely 
up to the group of pines. 

Miffins shouted to her as she drew near. “ I 
say, yer a daisy bareback! Why don’t yer join 
the circus ? ” 

The girl leaped lightly to the ground, but still 
held the horse by the mane. Her great eyes 
fixed themselves eagerly on Miffins’s face. 

“ Oh, have you seen a circus ? ” she said, with 
quickened breath. 

‘‘ Course,” said Miffins, scornfully, “ piles on 
’em. Everybody’s seen a circus.” 

“ I haven’t,” said the girl, sorrowfully. She 
brought up a heavy sigh, and added, “ I’d give 
— I’d give almost anything if I could. Won’t 
you tell me about them? I’ve seen the pictures 
in the village, but it doesn’t seem as if they could 
be true. The girls wear such lovely dresses, and 
some of them fly right through hoops. Have 
you ever seen them ? ” 

“ Course,” said Miffins, who began to feel of 
some importance again, for his wrath had van- 
ished, and he was getting interested in a girl 
that could ride bareback on a colt. They 
wear just the kind o’ togs yer see in the pitchers. 
I see one get afire onc’t, but they played the hose 
on her an’ put her out. The girl was er ridin’ 


NANCE 


53 

bareback, just like yer did, ’n’ a-flyin’ roun’ ’n’ 
roun’ the ring, — that’s where the horses run, — 
’n’ a paper lantern took fire overhead — ther’s 
lots er paper lanterns hangin’ from the roof — ’n’ 
some er the sparks fell on her, ’n’ she was all 
afire, ’n’ the kids er yellin’ like mad, ’n’ the 
women er screechin’, ’n’ next yer know, out runs 
the clown with the hose, ’n’ ker whiz — swish, 
he wet her down in er jiffy. Golly! but she 
v;as a dandy! She was on the horse, an’ kep’ 
on gallopin’ lickety-split roun’ an’ roun’, ’n’ the 
crowd cheered ’n’ yelled, ’n’ then the clown 
turned the hose on hisself, an’, when he was 
jest er soakin’ wet, he flung onter the horse 
behind the girl, ’n’ the two on ’em went roun’ 
’n’ roun’, ’n’ the people yelled louder ’n’ louder, 
’n’ laughed ter see the two er goin’ it tergether; 
fer the water’d washed all the paint off the 
clown’s face, ’n’ the girl’s hair was false ’n’ 
soakin’ wet with the water, ’n’ fell off inter 
the ring, ’n’ the band played ‘ The Girl I Left 
Behind Me ’ jest fer larks.” 

Miflins paused for breath. The girl let go of 
Nap’s mane and seated herself in front of Mif- 
fins. Her cheeks were red with excitement. 

“ Now let’s begin at the beginning,” she said, 
drawing on her stockings and shoes. 

“ Wot yer givin’ us ? ” said Miffins. 

“ I want to know all about it, all about how 


54 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


those girls train for the circus, and how much 
money they get, and how they go to work to 
get a place. But first I want to know your 
name.” 

“ Miffins.” 

“ Miffins what ? ” 

“ Dunno. Wot’s yer own?” 

Nance.” 

‘'Nance what?” 

“ Nance Liscom. My father was Squire Lis- 
com. I live with my uncle summers, just over 
the woods there, and winters with my father’s 
second wife. She’s the one that won’t let me 
go to the circus when it comes to Montpelier. 
Are you the boy that’s come to live at Mr. 
Foss’s?” 

“ Yup.” 

“ I’ll tell you something if you won’t tell. 
Mr. Foss tells the men in the village how easy 
it’s been breaking in his colts, and I’ve ridden 
Ml three of them with and without a halter 
before he has touched them ! ” 

“ Bully fer yer. I’ll tell yer wot,” said Mif- 
fins, waxing eloquent, “ we can have a circus 
right up here, ’n’ I’ll show yer jest how 
they do it — hoops ’n’ all; that’ll be better’n 
tellin’.” 

“ Oh, will you ? What fun ! When can we 
begin? ” 


NANCE 


55 


“Jest the nex’ time yer can sneak away up 
here when Fm here. Can't yer bring a whip 
with yer? " 

“ Oh, yes, uncle has two or three.” 

“Well, bring a reg’lar snapper — st! the old 
duffer’s er cornin’ ! ” 

Nance was over the five-barred gate in a trice, 
and threw herself down among the brakes. Then 
she could listen without being seen. 

Jacob stopped to unhitch Ethan, and then 
drove over to the pines. 

“ Here, sonny, here’s yer collie. I found him 
worriting the sheep up thar toward the wood- 
lot — found the hull on ’em jest ready ter clear 
the stone wall — an’ this pesterin’ cur ez happy 
ez er lord! He’ll do. But what’s happened to 
git the pink inter yer cheeks ? Seen my colts ? ” 

“ Yup. The calico one’s er dandy.” 

“ Yer ’bout right thar, sonny. Nap can’t be 
beat in the State er Vermont. Guess Fll hev 
ter bring yer up here agin; this air’s better’n 
er tonic.” 

“ When yer cornin’ again ? ” said Miffins, 
more loudly than was necessary, for he wanted 
Nance to hear. 

“ I ain’t deef, sonny,” said Jacob, smiling. 
“I calc’late ter come up ter-morrer, if this weather 
holds, ’n’ draw what Fve cut. Want to come? ” 

“ Yup.” 


56 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


As Jacob turned the jigger,” Miffins looked 
through the bars of the gate, and saw a sun- 
bonnet flap wildly three times from out the midst 
of the tall brakes. He knew Nance had under- 
stood. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Circus in the Back Pasture 


^W] HETHER it was the bracing mountain air, 
^ ^ or Martha Foss’s wholesome food, or the 
excitement of the prospective circus, Miffins felt 
the next day like another boy. There were no 
lumps in his throat to clear away, and his ac- 
tive newsboy’s spirit hated idleness. He had 
had enough of that already in the hospital. He 
was glad to do something. 

Jacob was about to lift him into the ham- 
mock, when Miffins began to wriggle so vigor- 
ously that the man tightened his arms about 
the boy to prevent him from slipping to the 
floor. 

Hello ! ” he said, in a surprised voice, seems 
ter me yer’ve got some muscle left yit.” 

Lemme go,” said Miffins, continuing to 
wriggle. I don’t want ter lay ’round in that 
shebang any longer — it’s the navvies as has ’em 
ter sleep in. Gimme something ter do.” 

Jacob deposited him in an old-fashioned cush- 
57 


58 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


ioned rocking-chair on the porch. Then he 
slapped his thigh, and exclaimed: ‘‘It’s come 
sooner’n I’d looked fer. Marm ! Marm ! Come 
here; the boy wants ter work.” 

Martha’s smiling face appeared at the wood- 
shed door. 

“ Well, that beats all. Ther’s plenty ter do 
most er the time, but you’ve got ter begin kinder 
sparin’. S’posin’ you sit right here ’n’ peel them 
pertaters, ’n’ I’ll chop this meat ’n’ apples, ’n’ 
you can finish tellin’ me ’bout that cock-fightin’ 
business we wuz interrupted in yesterday. I 
don’t deny as how I’ll take more interest, arter 
this, in seein’ them great spurred Plymouth 
Rocks in the barnyard a-layin’ each other out. 
I’ve alius beat ’em apart with the mop-handle, 
but I’m goin’ ter let ’em have it out the nex’ 
time.” 

Thus Martha and Miffins came to spend many 
a forenoon on the porch, busied with all sorts 
of household work, and, little by little, drawing 
near to each other in close companionship. For 
Miffins told her tale after tale of his New York 
life, and Martha told him all about her rather 
distant neighbors, her own family, and, at last, 
she spoke to him of her one little son, of his 
beauty and merry laugh and his helpful ways, 
of his studies and playmates, and showed him 
the boy’s skates and sled. But all this was long 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 


59 


after this special morning on the porch when 
Miffins pared potatoes for the first time, and 
seeded raisins when Martha was looking, and 
ate them when she wasn’t. 

On that special morning, Martha Foss told 
Miffins about her nearest neighbor. Squire Lis- 
com’s brother, led on by the boy’s apparently 
aimless questions. 

“ Ain’t ther no kids ’round here ? ” 

“ We’ve got a few goats up yonder thet you 
ain’t seen, a bothersome old ram, ’n’ a half-dozen 
ewes, ’n’ father said ther’ wuz two or three kids 
come along last week. What made you think 
er them?” 

Miffins stared for a minute, then a broad smile 
broke over his face. 

“ I meant, ain’t ther no boys ’round here ? ” 
Oh, boys,” said Martha, mildly, “ well, then. 
I’d say what I meant ef I wuz you; folks up 
here might laugh at you, ef you didn’t.” 

Now Miffins was no fool. Like most of the 
newsboy tribe, his wits had been sharpened by 
contact with all sorts of people, his energy de- 
veloped in his trade, and, without knowing it, 
he had become a good reader of character, ‘‘ sizin’ 
up,” he called it. But this mild woman non- 
plussed him. He could not tell whether she was 
making fun of him or not. He decided he 
wouldn’t take any chances on that word again, 
not if he could help it. 


6o 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ No, ther’s no boys just ’round here. Mr. 
Liscom, — he’s our nex’ neighbor, — he hain’t 
no children, but his niece, Nance Liscom, spends 
the summers with him ever sence her father 
died, five year ago come December. Some folks 
don’t like Nance, but I do. She’s an awkward, 
red-haired girl, ’n’ queer is no name fer her. 
She’s got notions ’bout what she wants ter be 
— where she got ’em, the land knows — ’n’ 
makes herself pretty miser’ble thinkin’ ’bout it. 
They’ve had shows down in the village, ’n’ Mis’ 
Liscom — thet’s her father’s second wife — won’t 
let her go, fer she says she couldn’t git nothin’ 
out of her fer months afterwuds. She stays 
with Mis’ Liscom winters, so I only see her 
summers. Mebbe she’ll come over here ef she 
knows you’ve come. But I wouldn’t say much 
to her ’bout what you’ve been tellin’ me.” 

Miffins pared his last potato in silence. 

It was a glorious day, and after dinner Jacob 
and Miffins drove up to the back pasture. 

Miffins hadn’t long upon his arrival to wait. 
No sooner had Jacob disappeared in the woods, 
than a green and white checked gingham sun- 
bonnet flew up from among the brakes. 

“ Coast’s clear,” called Miffins. 

A merry laugh answered him, and over the 
five-barred gate leaped nimble Nance. 

‘‘ Did yer bring the whip ? ” 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 6i 

‘‘ Yes, it’s over there in the brakes ; I’ll get 
it.” And over she went again as lightly as if 
the long legs had been made of cork and rubber. 

She handed it to Miffins, who fingered it ca- 
ressingly. He had always wanted just such a 
whip to snap, and now he had it. 

Suddenly he raised it, but both arm and whip 
were caught and held by Nance. 

‘‘ Don’t snap it yet ; wait till I get the colt 
and haul you down to the hollow. We’ve got 
to use the hollow for the ring. Here, see what 
I’ve brought for you.” 

Miffins looked on in amazement. This girl 
was no end o’ larks ! She lay flat on the ground 
by the lower rail of the pasture gate and pulled 
through a huge wooden shovel. A road snow- 
shovel, she explained to her companion. It was 
light and broad and shallow. Then she leaped 
the fence again, and threw over two soft sheep- 
skins. These she spread in the bottom of the 
snow-shovel, and said, triumphantly: 

There now, who says you can’t ride ? Here, 
crawl in, I can’t lift you.” 

Miffins growled. “ I don’t wanter be lifted. 
I can git in myself.” It cost him many a sharp 
twinge, but he set his teeth and accomplished it. 

‘‘ Now hold on to the sides, and I’ll go slow,” 
said Nance, and, grasping the long handle with 
both hands, she gently drew the shovel down 


62 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


the slope to the hollow/’ a level space of ground 
at least two hundred by three hundred feet. 

You see, I had to get you here first, for Nap 
wouldn’t come near this shovel and the sheep- 
skins; horses are so dreadfully afraid of skins. 
Now slide out, and I’ll take this up into the 
bushes ; ” and away she went with the uncouth 
equipage bouncing along behind her. 

Back she came, calling Nap to her old tune: 

“ Come Nap, Nap, Nap, Napoleon,” etc. 

Whinnying and snorting. Nap came cantering 
up to Nance. She patted his nose, and, laying 
her own against it, rubbed the freckled tip up 
and down the white stripe that extended from 
between the ears to the pink nostrils. 

“ This colt is a Morgan ; look at his ankles, 
how slender they are. He’s a beauty, isn’t he? 
Now, Nap,” she said, looking the colt straight 
in the face, “ there’s to be no nonsense. This 
is a whip. Smell it ! ” 

Nap flared his nostrils, and breathed all over 
the lash. 

Now, Mifflns, you snap it, — not very loud, 
— and I’ll hold on to Nap; ready!” 

Snap, snap. Nap reared gently, almost lifting 
Nance from the ground. 

Now I’ll get on,” she said, “ and you can 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 63 

snap louder. I’ll guide him round the hollow 
with this halter,” and she proceeded to put it 
on without much resistance on Nap’s part, “ and 
you can do just as you know they do at the 
circus.” 

She seized the horse’s mane, and repeated her 
performance of the preceding afternoon. Just 
as she was about to spring on, Miffins shouted, 
in his excitement : 

Hoop-la ! ” and cracked his whip, a real ring- 
man’s crack. 

Away went the colt and Nance; round and 
round the hollow they flew, and Miffins snapped 
the whip at the rate of twenty snaps to the 
minute, and his ‘‘ Hoop-la ! ” was drowned in 
the thud of the flying hoofs. 

After five mjnutes of this exercise. Nap took 
matters into his own care. He refused to mind 
the halter, and dashed madly up the slope toward 
the fence, which he prepared to take. It was 
then that Nance, on the alert for her chance, 
slipped off, and, leaving the colt pawing the 
fourth rail, ran back almost breathless to Miffins. 

Bully fer youT said Miffins to the panting 
girl. “ But, say, I wish yer wouldn’t try no 
fences yet; it give me the creeps.” 

Nance laughed with what breath she had left, 
and when she regained it, said: 

Oh, I’ve taken fences before now, and been 


64 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


thrown, too. But Fve learned when to get off, 
you see. Now, I’ll draw you up.” 

“ No, yer won’t,” said Miffins, stoutly. ‘‘ I 
ain’t er goin’ ter let no girl draw me up hill. 
I’ll stay here till the old duffer comes back; I 
can make it all straight with him.” 

“ What makes you call him ' duffer’ ? ” 

“ Coz I don’t know wot else ter call him.” 

“ Why don’t you call him ‘ Mr. Foss ’ ? ” 

‘‘ I ain’t er dude.” 

“A what?” 

Er dude.” 

“What’s that?” 

Miffins chuckled. 

“ It’s one of the misters that carries a cane 
in their mouths, wears no end of togs, ties, yer 
know, ’n’ bag coats ’n’ ironed pants.” 

Nance was evidently mystified. 

“ What do you call Mrs. Foss ? ” 

“ Nothin’.” 

“ I guess I’ll have to teach you your man- 
ners,” said the girl, gravely. “ I was coming 
over to see you to-morrow, and find out when 
we could have some more circus, but I sha’n’t 
come till you learn to speak to Mr. and Mrs. 
Foss as you ought to. They’re good friends 
of mine, and I won’t hear them called ‘ duffer ’ 
and ‘ nothin’,’ so now.” 

“ Well, yer needn’t get so mad about it. Wot 
d’yer want me to call ’em ? ” 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 65 

Nance smiled upon him. She had a pretty 
mouth and a set of white, even teeth, which 
made one forget the freckles and dark red hair. 

“ ril tell you what Fll do ; I’ll come over 
to-morrow and ask Mrs. Foss what she wants 
you to call them.” 

“ All right,” said Miffins. Don’t yer go 
back on me.” 

Not I,” laughed Nance. Just then her keen 
eyes caught sight of the sheep scattering to right 
and left of the wood-lot. 

“ Mr. Foss’s coming,” she cried. “ I must 
get the shovel and myself out of the way,” and 
off she bounded up the slope. 

‘‘ How’d yer git down here, sonny ? ” shouted 
Jacob, when half-way across the hollow. 

“ Slid down,” shouted Miffins in return, tell- 
ing the truth, but not the whole truth. 

“ Yer cornin’ on purty fast,” said Jacob, with 
a contented smile. Guess we can try on them 
crutches ’fore long.” 

Somehow Miffins did not care to answer. 

Nance was true to her word. The next morn- 
ing she made her appearance at The Roost,” 
as Jacob Foss had named his house on the south- 
ern slope of Beaver Tail. 

Martha Foss welcomed her with a hearty kiss, 
and the girl flung her long arms tight around 
the little pincushion of a woman — for Martha 


66 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


was short and round, with pink cheeks and 
crinkly brown hair — and hugged her breath 
almost out of her. 

There, that’ll do for now,” laughed Martha, 
breathlessly. “ Set right down here on the 
porch an’ tell me all about your folks. I hain’t 
seen one on ’em sence plantin’. But fust, I want 
you to git acquainted with our boy.” Martha 
spoke with all the pride of ownership, and some- 
how Miffins liked to hear it. 

“ I know him already,” said Nance, lifting 
her great eyes frankly to Martha’s. I came 
across him in the back pasture the other day 
when I was picking wild strawberries. How 
d’you do ? ” She held out her hand to Miffins, 
who took it awkwardly enough, and didn’t know 
when to drop it. Nance laughed merrily. 

‘‘ Guess you haven’t shaken hands with many 
girls, by the way you hold on ! Why — ” she 
exclaimed, taking the boy’s hand, and flattening 
it out on the pink palm of her own, why, how 
thin and small it is! Mrs. Foss, do you think 
that hand will do much work ? ” and she held 
it up for Martha’s inspection. 

‘‘ Le’go,” said Miffins. 

‘‘Well, yes, I doT said Martha, emphatically; 
“ those hands have begun already.” And she 
smiled at the boy, who felt suddenly an unwonted 
sensation beneath his blouse, very near the fifth 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 67 

and sixth ribs on the left side. He snatched his 
hand from Nance, and, to hide his feeling, 
frowned at the girl, who laughed a low, amused, 
tormenting laugh. 

“ I asked Miffins what he called you, Mrs. 
Foss — ” 

“ Shet up, will yer ? ” said Miffins, gruffly. 
He, who had feared nothing in his life, was ac- 
tually afraid of this girl’s tongue. 

“ You mustn’t speak to me that way, Miffins ; 
I’m not used to it,” said Nance, drawing herself 
up with great dignity, and the air of insulted 
majesty. You haven’t come up here to tell 
people when they shall speak and when they 
sha’n’t, nor to interfere in any way with our 
rights as free-born Vermonters. We’re free as 
well as fences — as you’ll find out, if you stay 
long enough.” Then, ignoring Miffins’s pres- 
ence, she continued : “ Miffins says he calls you 
‘ Nothin’,’ which he has no right to, because we 
all know you’re very much of something. Now, 
what do you want him to call you ? ” 

“ Why, I hadn’t thought anything about it,” 
replied Martha, but it would be kinder awkward 
not to be called nothin’. What do you call Jacob, 
Miffins ? ” 

Miffins was busy whittling some skewers for 
Martha’s boiled meats, and found it convenient 
to cut his thumb just at that moment. Martha 


68 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


exclaimed as she saw the blood, and hurried away 
to get a rag and arnica. 

“ Fve found a hoop,” said Nance, in a trium- 
phant whisper, as soon as Martha had disap- 
peared. ‘‘ Can’t you come up to the back 
pasture berrying some time this week? I’ll go 
up every afternoon to be sure and not miss you.” 

“ I’ll fix it,” said Miffins, in the same tone, 
“ but don’t you peach ! ” 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” said Nance. 
“ If you’ll speak English, perhaps I can under- 
stand you.” 

“ What d’yer take me fer, anyway ? ” Miffins’s 
voice rose suddenly to C sharp. '' I ain’t no 
Dago, I’m er ’Merican citizen, ’n’ I — ” 

His sentence remained unfinished, for Martha 
appeared with rag and bottle, and Nance con- 
tinued, volubly: 

Miffins says he’s an American citizen, Mrs. 
Foss.” 

“ Thet’s right, my boy. I like to see young 
folks stick up fer the land of their birth.” Mar- 
tha wound the strip of cotton cloth carefully 
about the bony thumb. ‘‘ S’posin’ you call me 
Mother Foss. I’d like that ez well ez anything.” 
She drew her hand across her eyes, and Miffins 
had an uncomfortable minute. 

Won’t you stay ter dinner, Nance? ” she said, 
as Nance made a movement to go. 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 69 

“ Not to-day, thank you, Mrs. Foss. Aunt 
Jane expects me to help her get dinner, for com- 
pany’s coming.” 

‘‘ Do tell ! ” said Martha, eagerly. “ Who be 
they?” 

Oh, some city folks — cousins, second or 
third, of my father’s; they’re driving over from 
the Adirondacks, and taking us in on the way. 
They’ve never been here before, and Aunt Jane 
is all upset over it; thank fortune, they’re only 
going to be here to dinner. But I’ve got to 
go home and whip the cream; we’ve plenty 
of wild strawberries to eat with it, and Aunt 
Jane’s roasted two chickens, and the table’s set 
in the front hall, because there’s a good view 
from there over the mountains, and Aunt Jane 
says city folks always want to eat with a view. 
I sha’n’t see them if I can help it!” Nance 
tossed her head, and with a fling of her sun- 
bonnet gave Martha a peck on her cheek, blew 
a kiss at Mifflns, much to his confusion, and 
walked airily away. 

She’s a queer mixture,” said Martha, watch- 
ing the tall, lithe figure as it swung along the 
road. “ But she’d oughter have a mother. She 
had one of the best and purtiest that ever breathed 
till she was six, an’ when she lost her father, she 
lost all. She’s different from all the gals ’round 
here, an’ she lets ’em know it. She’s taken quite 


70 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


a shine to you, an’ I’m glad on it. They say 
she’s read every book on the first four shelves of 
her father’s library, an’ she won’t go to the dees- 
tric’ school any longer — says she knows more’n 
the teachers, an’ I guess from all I hear she 
ain’t fur from the truth. Her step-mother’s too 
mean to send her away to school, an’ her own 
mother hadn’t no near blood relations, so there’s 
nobody to do for her. My heart aches for her 
sometimes, for she’s the lovin’est soul, if you 
git to know her well, an’ she takes to you.” 

During this long speech Nance was rapidly 
covering the mile of pasture and woodland that 
separated the two farms. But her thoughts out- 
stripped her pace, and her imagination was rang- 
ing far and wide. 

For the one great pleasure of this girl’s life 
was in “ imagining things.” She had never had 
an opportunity to see anything of the world 
beyond the boundaries of her native county. 
Two years after her mother died, her father, 
squire and judge and State’s attorney, had mar- 
ried his housekeeper, for what, save for her ex- 
cellent housekeeping qualities, no one had been 
able to find out. And when the little girl’s 
father died, a year afterward, there was no one 
to understand her, no one to care in reality what 
became of her, except Dan, her father’s faithful 
man of all work, and Uncle Reuben, her father’s 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 


71 


brother, an invalid for many years, who, with his 
devoted wife, lived a life of seclusion in their 
isolated home over the mountain. 

Squire Liscom had inherited a large landed 
estate from his father, but the returns from it 
were small, for the young squire was too bound 
up in his books and career to care for rotation 
of crops and fancy cattle. One summer, when 
he was at home from; college, some New York 
people, distant relatives of his mother, had 
stopped on their way from Saratoga at the old 
New England mansion, to enjoy its hospitality. 
Then it was that his mother urged one of their 
guests, a lovely girl of twenty-one, to stay awhile 
in the Green Mountain air. Soon the old story 
repeated itself, and when the young squire had 
been entered at the bar, he and his lovely city 
bride took possession of the old home, then 
vacant. 

Thus it happened that Nancy Liscom had had 
the most careful up-bringing — father and mother 
both guiding and teaching, with pride in the little 
girl’s quick intelligence, and loving care for gen- 
tleness and refinement of manners. 

But for five years the child, save for the last 
three summers at her uncle’s, had run wild with- 
out any one to care in reality for her. Her step- 
mother remained housekeeper in her aims and 
ambitions. To keep the house spotless, front 


72 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


door locked, sitting-room and library closed with 
drawn shades and tight blinds, bedrooms and 
halls darkened to keep out flies and prevent the 
carpets from fading ; to scrub, to sweep, to 
wash, to fret, to add to her poultry and milch 
cows, to sell her butter at fancy prices; to live 
in the kitchen and use the back door for the sake 
of saving the front of the house; to scold Dan 
and misrule Nancy, seemed the sole objects in 
her life; and she attained them all. 

Little Nancy Liscom could no more flourish 
in such an atmosphere than could a flower in a 
sunless cellar. 

She had but one comfort within the house — 
her father’s and mother’s books. Without, she 
had Dan, her confidant and consolation in troub- 
lous times, her companion and instructor in 
natural things in peaceful ones. 

Until it was too cold, her reading-room was 
the hay-loft. Here under a large window she 
lay upon the sweet-smelling hay, and devoured 
“ Kenilworth ” and “ Rob Roy,” “ Robinson 
Crusoe” and “Little Lord Fauntleroy;” cried 
over “ Nicholas Nickleby ” and “ David Copper- 
field ” and Little Nell, and laughed merrily with 
Sam Weller and Pickwick. She slept with 
“ Little Women ” under her pillow for two 
months, and imagined herself Jo and Amy alter- 
nately. She loved Mary Queen of Scots and 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 


73 


hated Elizabeth. She loathed her own red hair 
for its own sake and because it was the color of 
Elizabeth’s, and after reading “ The Ugly Duck- 
ling,” she made a vow, which she kept for a 
year, never to look in her little mirror, because 
she was so homely. 

In one winter she read “ Macbeth ” and 
“ Lear,” Hamlet ” and “ King John,” and in 
consequence hid her head at night beneath the 
bedclothes, shivering with fear if a board in 
the floor sprang with the cold, the branches of 
the maple just outside the window rattled icily 
against the frost-covered panes, or the wind 
roared in the chimney. 

All these years of reading and imagining ” 
had, at last, made her restless and rebellious, and 
when the longing to be out in the world, to 
mingle with people whom she imagined to be 
noble and handsome and generous and gallant, 
like the people in her book-world, became intol- 
erable, she would saddle the friskiest colt in the 
stalls, and, unknown to every one but Dan, who 
had taught her to ride at six, gallop madly over 
hill and down dale, taking a fence here and a 
stone wall there, exhausting, after four hours of 
hard riding, both herself and the horse. 

“ That girl’ll come to grief,” said many a 
farmer’s wife, as she looked out of the door after 
the flying steed ; and if she had, there were only 
a few who would not have said : I told you so ! ” 


74 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


To-day, as she walked with a light, free step 
over the summit of Beaver Tail, she was imagin- 
ing all sorts of things about these city people 
who were coming to dinner. She imagined her- 
self as she would like to be, and saw herself, a 
beautiful girl with golden hair and blue eyes, 
clad in a pale blue muslin dress, with a broad silk 
sash to match, standing in the hall door to receive 
the guests. She would descend the two steps 
gracefully, and putting out her delicate hand, 
welcome them to all the hospitality of the simple 
home. She saw just how they all looked, what 
each had on, how each looked at her in admira- 
tion, and heard them compliment her. Before 
they went they urged her to visit them in their 
city home. She accepted the invitation, and when 
they had gone, amused herself with imagining 
how the city house was furnished, and what kind 
of toilets they wore at balls and receptions. She 
remembered they had said she should choose 
what pleasures she would while visiting them. 

‘‘ ril go to the circus once a week while I’m 
there, and then I’ll go to see ‘ Macbeth ’ and 
‘ Lear ’ and ‘ Midsummer Night’s Dream ; ’ but 
if I were invited to a ball I don’t know what 
I’d wear; let me see. I love pale blue, and per- 
haps a pale blue satin with a train ” (she imag- 
ined herself always as dressed like a grown-up 
young lady with a train, when her vivid fancy 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 


75 


pictured the balls and receptions that she thought 
made up the wonderful life in cities) — and 
Fd have a simple coronet of pearls in my hair, 
and carry a bunch of lilies-of-the-valley. About 
my slippers, — h’m ! ” 

She stopped short in her rapid walk and put 
out one foot. A heavy laced calf-skin shoe hid 
all lines of grace. She stamped her foot pas- 
sionately on the soft turf. 

“ I hate it so ! ” she cried, just as a voice called 
wearily, and a little fretfully: 

“ Oh, Nance, do hurry. It’s most time for 
them to come, and the cream isn’t whipped, and 
you can’t be seen in that rig. Hurry ’round to 
the back door. I wouldn’t have them see you 
now for anything.” 

Nance needed no urging. She flew around to 
the kitchen door, enveloped herself in a huge 
blue and white checked apron, and taking the 
cream from the ice-box, began beating with might 
and main. Suddenly over the hills sounded the 
notes of a horn. 

“ They’re coming, Nance,” cried her aunt, 
** do hurry and get ready,” and she hastened into 
the front hall to greet the merry party on the 
tally-ho that drew up under the shade of the 
great elms and beeches which bordered the moun- 
tain road. 

Nance, peeking out of the sitting-room win- 


76 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


dow, saw and heard all : the courteous greetings, 
the charming nothings which sounded so much, 
the merry exchange of banter among themselves 
as inside and outside passengers to the number 
of eight were safely landed on the noiseless turf. 

What pretty girls! Three of them, in short 
skirts, fresh blouses, and pink and blue and 
brown coaching jackets, long gauntlet ed gloves, 
and soft straw Tam-o’-Shanters. And the three 
young men! How devoted they were! first to 
the lovely, gray-haired woman with delicate, 
high-bred face, who stepped so lightly toward 
Mrs. Liscom, saying, in the kind of voice Nance 
had imagined high-bred ladies to have: 

“ This seems an imposition, Mrs. Liscom, but 
I could not come without them, and I was un- 
willing to drive through this part of the moun- 
tains without stopping to see Mr. Liscom, and 
at least inquire for his brother’s child, although 
only a fourth cousin.” 

Nance waited to hear no more. Show herself 
to those lovely girls and that beautiful woman 
and those gay young men! Not she, with her 
red hair and freckles and skimpy best calico, 
which came only to the tops of her thick boots. 
She snatched her sunbonnet from the kitchen 
table, and was off and away over the hill to the 
back pasture before the guests had even seated 
themselves in the cool front hall. 


CIRCUS IN THE PASTURE 


77 


Only once she stopped, at the sugar-house half- 
way up the hill in the woods. She entered, and 
took from a peg in the wall a huge hoop, — a 
vat hoop, which she had found behind the little 
hut, — and then she was off again, never paus- 
ing until she threw herself face downward 
among the tall brakes, and cooled her burning 
cheeks against their green fronds. 

She felt safe at last. There were no critical 
city eyes to look upon her — only Nap’s soft 
brown ones rested on her as she lay prone, too 
unhappy to give him even a word. 


CHAPTER V. 

The Last Rehearsal 

I T must have been near four o’clock when 
she heard a voice the other side of the fence. 
“ I’ll be back, sonny, ’fore sundown; when 
a colt breaks loose, there ain’t no tellin’ where 
he’ll fetch up. I might find Bet somewheres 
between here ’n’ Montpelier.” 

Mifiins was just thinking of his poor luck in 
coming so late that there was no chance of seeing 
Nance — forgetting she had company at home 
— when suddenly, after Jacob’s entire disap- 
pearance in the woods, a green and white checked 
gingham sunbonnet flew over the fence. 

“ Hi there! Nance! How’d yer know I wuz 
er cornin’ ? ” 

I didn’t,” said Nance, leaping the fence. “ I 
came up here to get out of the way of those 
city folks. I hate them ! ” she cried, with flash- 
ing eyes. Miffins stared. 

Wot’s up? ” he inquired. 

Nothing’s up,” retorted Nance, ‘‘ it’s all 
78 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


79 


down. I’m so discouraged. I’m down in my 
m!ind, clear down in my boots ; ” and down she 
flung herself upon the pine-needles, sobbing as 
if her heart would break. 

Now Mifflns had seen girls of all ages, big 
ones from the slums and little ones from the back 
alleys ; he had seen them fight and squabble and 
howl with rage over a rotten banana, a rag pile, 
of a stale bun; but he had never seen a girl in 
the very abandonment of grief and woe, face 
downward on the earth, shaken with convulsive 
sobs simply because she was discouraged. 

He was unable to face the situation. He 
hitched himself along toward the sunbonnet that 
was hanging by one string from a blackberry 
bush, and fitted it over his fist. Then he called 
Nap, who was nosing the prostrate figure, unable 
to comprehend why he was neglected. 

The colt walked sedately over to Mifiins, and 
smelt of the sunbonnet, then looked at him with 
a look which, if it meant anything, meant, 
“ What can I do ? ” 

Suddenly a clown’s old trick popped into the 
boy’s remembrance, and forthwith he proceeded 
to act upon the suggestion. Stroking and rub- 
bing the soft nose, he laid firm hold upon the 
horse’s mane. Again he let him smell of the 
sunbonnet. Then, taking a good bit of maple 
sugar from his pocket, he broke it into smaller 


8o 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


pieces, and holding it in the palm of one hand, 
with the other he gently hoisted the sunbonnet 
over Nap’s head, and let it settle lightly over his 
ears. 

Nap tossed his head once and whisked, or tried 
to, his ears, but Miffins held on with a firm hand, 
and the horse, busy with the sugar, was not 
aware that the green gingham strings, tied so 
deftly in a bow under his jaws, were anything 
more than a light-weight halter. He looked up 
from nosing in the grass for the last crumb of 
sweet in mild surprise at the roar of laughter 
which burst from Miffins at the picture the colt 
presented. 

Nance had stopped sobbing, and was beginning 
to feel slightly ashamed of herself for having 
cried before a boy, when a howl of mirth brought 
her quickly to a sitting position. Her eyes and 
nose were red with crying, and the woebegone 
figure of the girl faced the ludicrous one of the 
surprised and sunbonneted colt. Miffins rolled 
over and over, convulsed with laughter at the 
sight. ‘‘ Oh, my eye ! ” he groaned, rather than 
spoke, for he ached with laughing, here’s larks ! 
I say, Nance, yer’ve got a cinch on the circus. 
Ther can’t nothin’ beat this. Oh, golly — I shall 
bust.” 

Nance stared at first; then a peal of merry 
laughter rang out over the hilltop. Nance was 
herself again. 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


8i 


“ Does that belong to the circus, too ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Yup — Oh, my ! wait a miinit ’n’ I’ll tell yer. 
Lemme git my windpipes clear.” He coughed 
vigorously, then continued. '' Yup, that’s jest 
what the clown does, only he rides the horses 
round the ring, bonnet ’n’ all. I’ll bet yer can 
do it, too, in time.” 

“ I sha’n’t,” said Nance, promptly, with a re- 
turn of dignity. “ I shall not lower myself play- 
ing clown’s tricks. I’m going to be a beautiful 
bareback rider with a dress such as I have seen 
in the pictures. I’ve brought my hoop now for 
practice.” 

Hev yer, though ? ” said Mifhns, eagerly. 
“ Let’s begin, then, ’fore it’s too late. See here. 
I’ve got my crutches with me, so I can stan’ ’n’ 
hold the hoop.” 

But there was a third one to be consulted in 
the matter — Nap, who did not take as kindly 
to the hoop as to the sunbonnet. There was 
backing and curvetting and rearing and snorting 
before he could be made to approach the hoop 
and smell of it. Then there were coaxings in- 
numerable before he would so much as put his 
head through, and it was near sundown when 
Nance thought of her flight from home, and 
Jacob made his appearance from the woods lead- 
ing Bet, and Nap trotted gaily to meet her and 
whinny his wonderful experience. 


82 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Meanwhile the city guests had enjoyed their 
lunch in the front hall, the roast chicken, deli- 
cate rolls and delicious Jersey butter, the fresh 
sponge cakes, the wild strawberries and whipped 
cream. 

But where was Nance? The ladies wanted to 
see her. The gentlemen were smoking the after- 
lunch cigars with Mr. Liscom under the elms, and 
after expressing a courteous wish to meet her, 
fell into animated talk with their host on the 
breeding of true Morgans. 

Mrs. Liscom fidgeted about, hoping Nance 
would appear soon. She had gone out to call 
her to lunch, but, not finding her in the kitchen, 
took it for granted she was changing her gown. 

‘‘ She’s shy of strangers,” she said, apologeti- 
cally, “ but she’ll be down soon.” Finally she 
went to the foot of the stairs. 

Nance,” she called, “ Nance, are you ready? ” 

There was no answer. She hurried up-stairs 
to the girl’s room, to find it vacant, and the best 
calico dress hanging untouched in the closet. 
She came down and went out of the back door 
to the barn, the carriage-house, calling “ Nance! ” 
At last she returned, her face flushed with vexa- 
tion and the exertion. 

‘‘ I declare,” she said, as she appeared among 
her guests again, “ I don’t know what to make 
of that girl at times. She’s none of my blood — 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


83 

begging your pardon, Mrs. Barnard — or perhaps 
I could understand her better. She comes out 
strong at the most unexpected times, and at 
others, when you look for most, she’s weaker 
than water. She’s gone somewhere, hidden her- 
self, I dare say, because she is shy about meeting 
city people.” 

“ I should like to have seen her,” said the 
lady, courteously. “ I remember to have seen 
her father once when he was a young boy and 
in the city. My youngest sister knew her mother 
well. She was a great belle, and all her set won- 
dered when she decided to make her home among 
the mountains. My cousin, I have been told, 
was a remarkable man, with a great career before 
him had he lived. You will remember us to her, 
won’t you? And tell her not to run away from 
her relations another time. The truth is,” she 
added, with a shrug of her shoulders, “ she can’t 
afford to, she has too few — and I thought possi- 
bly we might be useful to her sometime. But if 
she is as odd as you say, perhaps she will flourish 
best on her native soil. Transplanting might 
spoil her.” And amid thanks for the bountiful 
hospitality, the party mounted the tally-ho and 
drove away, the notes of the horn echoing gaily 
among the hills. 

About half-past seven, Nance made her appear- 
ance at the back door. She knew, deep down 


84 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


in her heart, that she had been guilty of the 
greatest discourtesy, and she dreaded to meet her 
uncle and aunt. She paused at the door, dangling 
her sunbonnet. 

“ Nancy Liscom,” said her aunt, severely, 
without turning her head, “ where have you 
been?” 

Up in the back pasture.” 

“ Well, all Fve got to say to you is that you 
ought to be downright ashamed of such actions. 
You’ve disgraced your good name, which was 
your father’s and mother’s, and if your relations 
never have anything more to do with you it’s 
your own fault. You’ve disgraced me and your 
uncle as well. You’re too old to be punished 
like a child, but I hope your conscience will do 
the work. Go to bed, for I don’t want to see 
you again to-night. I’ve no patience left with 
you.” 

Never before had Aunt Liscom spoken thus 
to her husband’s niece, and never had Nance 
better deserved the truth. She felt this, although 
unwilling to acknowledge it, and went up to 
her room with no sign of repentance. But once 
she had closed the door, she flung herself down 
upon her bed and cried herself to sleep. 

For the rest of that summer Nance was an- 
gelic. 

“ That scolding did her good,” Mrs. Liscom 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


85 


observed to her husband, after a particularly try- 
ing day. “ She’s been like a different girl ever 
since. She’s like my right hand in everything, 
and there’s nothing she can’t turn her hand to 
— from making your broth to putting up berries. 
As for picking them, she’s like a machine, so 
quick and steady. I don’t know but it’s turned 
out all for the best that her folks didn’t see 
her that day, for she’s improved so in her looks 
and ways they’d hardly know it was the same 
girl. I really think she’ll make a fine woman 
if that Jane Slocum” (Mrs. Liscom could never 
be brought to recognize her brother-in-law’s 
wife as anybody but “Jane Slocum”) “doesn’t 
nag her to death winters. I’m sorry the girl’s 
got to go back in September. Just hear her; it 
does my heart good.” 

“ ‘ Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, 

Come saddle the horses and call up the men ; 

Come, open your doors, and let me gae free, 

For it’s up with the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.’ ” 

Nance’s voice rang out sweetly and clearly, 
as she came bounding in from the road, swinging 
her sunbonnet in one hand, in the other a noble 
Brahma hen which she held by its two feet 
and head downward. 

“ It’s all ‘ up ’ with this sunbonnet. Aunt Lis- 
com ; look ! ” 


86 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


She held the green and white checked ging- 
ham, which was rent in all directions, up to 
inspection. “ Mr. Foss’s old ram thought it 
was a head of cabbage or something like, and 
chewed it! And this hen Mrs. Foss sends you 
as a present; she will sit, and has been sitting, 
on nothing, too, for two months, and Mrs. Foss 
says she is worn out seeing her around.” 

“ Well, Nance,” she replied, with a smile, “ if 
you take her in hand there’ll be no ' sittin’ round ’ 
for the hen any more than there has been for 
poor Miffins. Mrs. Foss said that used to worry 
the boy so at first, but since you’ve taken hold 
of him, she hasn’t heard anything of it.” 

“I like Miffins,” said Nance, gravely; “he 
helps me, and Fm awfully sorry for him although 
I don’t say so.” 

“ He’s getting pretty chummy with the Slocum 
boys and Parson Leonard’s boy; they seem to 
like him, too.” 

“Yes,” said Nance, abstractedly, and went 
to the barn to shut up the hen. 

It was already late in August, and during the 
past two months Nance and Miffins had seen 
much of each other. The boy admired the girl 
for her daring and skill in riding, and respected 
her tongue. Little by little — although he would 
have scorned the suggestion of such a thing — 
he had dropped much of the street slang, and 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


87 


improved his English under her autocratic rule. 
He could not quarrel with a girl for correct- 
ing him in his speech, who entered into the fun 
of the circus as she did, who told him stories 
of bear and coon hunts, and wonderful feats of 
strength of her pet heroes, and listened with 
eager ears to all his tales of the city’s sights 
and sounds. 

Nance, on the other hand, found Miffins useful 
to her in the slow development of a deeply laid 
scheme, of which, up to this time, Miffins knew 
nothing. 

Coming down-stairs the next morning after 
her merited rebuke, she found on the hall table 
sixteen cards, a double set of eight, with the 
names and residences of each of the guests. She 
took them in to her aunt. 

“ What do these mean ? ” she demanded, with 
her head in the air, as if scenting an insult. 

“ It means,” replied Mrs. Liscom, quietly, 
“ that when your cousins found you had been 
so impolite as to run away from them after they 
had driven over to see you, they left a set of 
cards for you and one for me, to show that 
extended the hospitality of their home to you, 
and would he at home when you called.” 

Mrs. Liscom, having heaped high her coals 
of fire, turned again to her work. Nance kept 
the eight cards, and they were the germ of her 


88 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


scheme. How that scheme developed later we 
shall see. Meanwhile the circus practice had 
kept on whenever opportunities presented — and 
they were many. 

Nance would appear at the Roost early with 
a tin lunch-pail well filled, and an empty eight- 
quart milk-pail. 

“ Mr. Foss, can’t you take us up to the back 
pasture for raspberries this morning?” 

“ Why, ter be sure I can, Nance. Got yer 
lunch ? Coin’ to make a day of it, air yer ? ” 

Or, “ Mr. Foss, when you cut that piece of 
hay back of the wood-lot, can’t Miffins and I 
ride up too ? ” 

“ Course yer can.” 

Or, Mr. Foss, won’t you let me hitch up 
Ethan and drive up with Miffins to salt the colts 
and sheep, you’re so busy haying?’" 

Thank ye, thank ye, Nance. Fd be glad ter 
hev ye. Em so drove this weather, and git all 
het up goin’ up there after chores.” 

So the afternoons and forenoons were many 
during July and the first part of August for the 
two comrades to play at circus to their hearts’ 
content. And it was astonishing what prog- 
ress Nap and the girl had made under Miffins’s 
tutelage. 

Finding that Nap could not be induced to 
step even through the hoop, Miffins hit upon 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


89 


the idea of accustoming him first to hurdles. 
This was easily arranged. Jacob had cut hun- 
dreds of slim birches in the woods, and piled 
them near some split hickory. 

Nance availed herself of Ethan and the jigger, 
on the occasions when she drove up with Miffins 
to salt the colts, to load on a little of the split 
wood and three birch poles. Up near the pine- 
trees they made a low hurdle, by resting the ends 
of the birch pole on two firm piles of hickory. 
Little by little. Nap was taught to take these 
standing, then, when he could take the height 
of three fence bars, the snow-shovel was brought 
into use, loaded up with the wood, and the hurdle 
set up in the hollow. 

Here Nap had free course, and took the hur- 
dle beautifully every time, with Nance proudly 
erect on his back. That was a great day for 
both when the colt cantered round and round, 
taking the hurdle with such grace and sure- 
footedness that Miffins forgot to crack his whip, 
so lost was he in admiration. 

But how to manage the hoop? Nap could 
only be induced to put his nose through it when 
there was an ear of corn or a potato or a lump 
of sugar held tantalizingly just beyond his nose 
on the other side. 

Fve got it ! ” said Miffins one day, when 
the two comrades were about to acknowledge 
themselves vanquished in their attempts. 


90 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


ril stand by the hurdle ’n’ hold the hoop 
on it with one hand, and with the other Fll hold 
out a ear of green corn just beyond it on the 
farther side, ’n’ I shouldn’t wonder if that would 
fetch him.” 

No sooner said than done. Miffins balanced 
himself with his crutch, and held the light hoop 
firmly on the birch pole. In the other hand he 
held out the ear of corn, and awaited the event. 
Nap was galloping bravely, enjoying the fun 
as much as either of them. Nance urged him, 
to greater speed. As he approached the hurdle, 
he pricked his ears, for he saw the half-husked 
ear of corn seemingly almost within reach. Ris- 
ing gracefully, he was up and through and over 
before he knew a hoop had encircled him for 
a second, and, with a snap in passing, he caught 
the ear by the husks, and flew on with the tid- 
bit dangling from his mouth. 

How the two laughed! How they gloried in 
that triumph, while Nap, all unconscious that 
he had been vanquished, munched the succu- 
lent vegetable with intense relish. 

Of course, it was easy after that, and not so 
much fun. Nance noticed that Miffins had a 
good deal to say about the Slocum boys and 
Jim Leonard, and, at times, his thoughts were 
evidently anywhere but with her and Nap. But 
one day she gave him a surprise. 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


91 


Over the fence there came, not the Nance he 
had known, but a young girl dressed in white, 
with bare neck and arms of a dazzling white, 
cheeks pink with excitement, and a wand of 
silver, or so it seemed to the dazed boy. 

“ Well, how do you like the looks? ” she said, 
trying to speak indifferently. 

“By cracky! but you’re a peach, Nance. 
Where’d you get that bloomin’ circus dress ’n’ 
the stick ? ” 

“ It does pretty well, doesn’t it ? I patterned 
it after one that was left on the poster in the 
bridge as you drive down to Barnet. See,” she 
lifted some of the numerous petticoats, “ they’re 
all made of cheese-cloth. I’ve starched the under 
ones, and the stick I covered with silver paper. 
I earned it all picking berries. Noz^) ” — she 
almost shouted in her joy — “ we’ll have a dress 
rehearsal, and it’ll be the last one,” she added, 
significantly. 

“What d’yer mean?” said Miffins. 

“ I’ll tell you when we get through.” And 
forthwith the hurdle was set up, and Nap was 
put through his best paces, and flew time and 
again through the hoop, enjoying the fun as 
much as the boy and girl. 

It was a pretty sight! The cup-like hollow, 
— the green slopes and woodlands surrounding 
it, — the white birch hurdle, the beautiful white 


92 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


and fawn-color horse, the graceful figure of the 
girl in her white, fluffy, short skirts, white stock- 
ings and home-made white cloth sandals, the 
long, dark-red curls falling back over the white 
neck, her gray eyes black with excitement, and 
the silver paper wand flashing in the level rays 
of the setting sun. 

Mifflns threw up his straw hat — then his 
whip — in his ecstasy of delight. 

Oh, Nance!” he cried, as she finished the 
last round, and Nap trotted gracefully up to him 
to receive the never-failing tidbit, “ Oh, Nance ! 
You’ve beat ’em all. Don’t I wish I could see 
you in a real circus jest once!” 

“ Perhaps you will,” said Nance, dismissing 
Nap with a slap, who was nosing around for 
more sweets, and loading up the snow-shovel 
with the split wood. I’ll come back for you 
in a minute,” she said, pulling stoutly up the 
slope. 

Mifflns had made great progress with his 
crutch in these two months. He had grown so 
strong and hearty that, with a little help, he 
could hitch along very decently up hill and down. 
Back flew the white figure, and put one arm 
under Mifflns’s arm. 

“ Rest once or twice on the way up,” she said, 
and I’ll tell you when we get up under the 
pines.” 



IFFINS THREW UP HIS STRAW HAT 
. . . IN HIS ECSTASY OF DELIGHT." 



THE LAST REHEARSAL 


93 


“ Now, I want you to answer questions and 
not ask any, not one,” she said, peremptorily, 
when they had seated themselves beneath the 
pines. 

“ ’Tain’t fair.” Miffins rebelled at the idea. 

“ Yes, ’tis, this time ; you’ll see. What I 
want you to tell me is whether I ride as well 
as those girls in the circus ? ” 

“ Yer beat ’em all holler,” said Miffins, posi- 
tively, falling into his old speech in his ex- 
citement. 

“ When does the circus come to New York? ” 

Miffins thought a moment. 

“ ’Long towards May ’n’ September.” 

“ What do those best riders get a month ? ” 

“Yer mean fer pay?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I dunno ; but I guess they get as much as 
a show girl I knew. She wuzn’t but thirteen, 
but she got fifty dollars a month singin’ ’n’ 
dancin’ at the Bowery.” 

“ Fifty dollars ! Oh, my, what a lot ! Why, 
Dan only gets a hundred dollars a year and his 
board and clothes — mean enough, too, they are 
— like mine ! ” she said, scornfully. 

“ Well, Miffins, I’ve decided to join a circus,” 
she went on, slowly and emphatically. “ I’ve 
been thinking about it all summer, and there 
isn’t any way out of this winter-trap I shall soon 


94 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


be in, but that. I can support myself then, be- 
sides seeing something of the world.” She 
looked straight at Miffins to see what effect her 
statement would have upon him. 

Miffins’s hat flew into the air again. 

‘‘ My, but you're a brick, Nance,” he said, 
admiringly, and he chuckled to himself, She’s 
a one-er.” 

“You needn’t call me names, Mifflns; attend 
now to what I say. You’ve got to help me off. 
I’ve planned it all, and you’re the only one that’ll 
know, — and you mustnt know, you understand. 
Now tell me how you get there.” 

The whispered conference lasted fully fifteen 
minutes, then Nance shivered. The sun had set, 
and she was chilly in the thin dress with its low 
neck and short sleeves. 

“ How’d yer get on yer togs ? ” said Mifflns, 
as they heard Nap whinny, and knew Jacob had 
come up, as he had promised, to fetch Mifflns 
home and bring down some sheep for the market. 

“ I dressed over in the bushes beyond the 
brakes. Sh! ” and, laying one hand on the rail, 
over she flew, looking in the failing light like a 
great white butterfly settling to rest. 

“ Thet’s cur’us,” said Jacob, as he drove up 
with Ethan, and the jigger railed off into a 
sheep-pen. “ I could er took my oath thet I saw 
one of them sheep jump the fence jes’ a few 


THE LAST REHEARSAL 


95 

minutes ago, as I came out of the woods. But 
you wuz right here, warn’t yer? ” 

“ Yes, I ain’t seen any,” said Miffins, inno- 
cently; “I’ll go with you ’n’ help drive ’em 
in.” 

“ All right, sonny, ye’re gittin’ to be my right- 
han’ man, better’n most on ’em with whole legs. 
Guess I’ll lead Nap down by the halter ; he needs 
lookin’ arter. You drive,” he added, after they 
had penned the sheep in the jigger. 

“ I dunno, marm,” he said that night, as they 
sat at the supper-table. “ I dunno what hez got 
inter thet colt! The sperits seem all gone outer 
him. He follows me roun’ like ’n old cart- 
horse, ’n’ two, three times I found him wet with 
sweat, ’n’ a lather ’nuff ter shave with on his 
neck. I’ve brought him down ter the home pas- 
ter ter see ef he can’t git some of his frisk back. 
I hate ter see a colt peter-out like thet. Three 
months ago, he wouldn’t come nigh me with a 
halter in my han’, ’n’ now he comes up so im- 
perdent-like, ’n’ sticks his nose into it! Burn 
me, ef I know what ter make er sech tantrums. 
Ef he wuz a mare now, I might — ” 

“ There, there, Jacob,” said Martha, mildly, 
“ you’ve said enough.” 

“ Don’t be techy, marm,” replied Jacob, a lit- 
tle testily, I ain’t said nothin’ agin women ; 
I only said ef Nap wuz a mare — ” 


96 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 

Martha interrupted Jacob with a kindly laugh. 
'' Come now, father, you’ll spoil your supper 
frettin’ over that colt; ’tain’t worth it.” 

'' Mebbe ye’re right, marm,” said Jacob, 
laughing at his little display of temper. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Black Bear Cave 

J IM LEONARD, the minister’s son, and the 
two Slocum boys, Harry and Billy, had de- 
cided to make the acquaintance of the new boy at 
Mr. Foss’s. The fact that he was from New 
York whetted their curiosity. 

The blackberries were thick in the back pas- 
ture, and Jacob had given the village children 
permission to pick all they would there. Con- 
sequently, it was no unusual thing for the three 
boys to drive up to the Roost in Lawyer Slo- 
cum’s old farm wagon, and tell Jacob they were 
going up into the back pasture. 

They made their appearance one morning in 
August, with their six-quart pails for berries 
and their one-quart pails for lunch. 

Miffins was on the porch feeding Fidget, who 
growled a puppy growl at the boys as they 
approached, and then gambolled forth to meet 
them with every sign of welcome. 

These three boys were a pleasing sight to 
97 


98 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Miffins. Say what we may, a boy feels most 
at home with his own kind. A girl fills in well 
when no boys are to be had, but she can’t take 
their place. Jack-knives and hockey and foot- 
ball can be talked over most intelligently with 
a girl — we all know that — but they can’t be 
fought over with her. 

Then there is stick-board and leap-frog, which 
are a bit beyond their comprehension, and a boy 
can’t help feeling his superiority in these things. 
So, although Miffins had Nance to thank for 
many a happy hour in the back pasture, he was 
beginning to get homesick for boys, and Jim 
and Harry and Billy were just in time to divert 
his thoughts from his ‘‘pals” in New York. 
Martha was willing enough that he should join 
them, and provided him with a solid lunch. 

“ I say, fellers,” said Billy, after they had 
picked steadily with little talk for two hours, 
“ let’s have our dinner down on the ledge. We 
can drive down to the fence, and then we can 
hoist Miffins over an’ carry him down the slope 
basket-fashion.” 

“ That’ll be bully,” said Jim, and off they 
went on their two-mile drive. 

The East Branch rushes down a narrow valley. 
In its upper course it flows through Barnet Lake, 
that lies at the eastern end of the valley, and it 
empties into the Winooski at Barnet. 


BLACK BEAR CAVE 


99 


The valley toward the east is properly a long- 
ravine with precipitous sides, two and three hun- 
dred feet high. The waters of the Branch are 
crowded between the banks and sweep with 
tremendous force over Beaver Dam, a natural 
barrier half-way between the lake and Barnet. 

At the western end of the valley, the banks 
diminish in height, the valley widens to form 
meadows and flats, and the Branch flows steadily 
and quietly, almost level with the meadows on 
which lies the village of Hurdyville. 

It was on the rocky wall just above Beaver 
Dam that the boys proposed to have their dinner, 
a wild spot, formerly the resort of bear and 
wolf, but long since made safe by the pioneers’ 
shotguns. 

They were eating their lunch with the keen 
appetite that belongs to boys, when Jim gave 
a shout. 

'‘Jiminy! there’s Fidget over the bank!” 

Sure enough, the puppy, who had followed 
them to the pasture, and been brought for safe 
keeping with them in the wagon, had been inves- 
tigating a mysterious hole at the very edge of 
the bank. Nosing about it, he had been all 
unaware of its occupant — a fine baby hedge- 
hog that came suddenly into view in such an 
alarming state of excitement that Fidget, startled 
by the apparition, sprang backward and rolled 
over the edge of the embankment. 

Lof C. 


lOO 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Yelping, rolling, sliding, slipping, the puppy 
made his way all too rapidly for his comfort 
toward the waters of the dam, and the boys were 
powerless to help. 

Miffins had a bad five minutes waiting for the 
end, when, suddenly, all sounds ceased. The boys 
looked anxiously at each other, but the spruce 
and hemlock were too thick to allow them to 
see what had happened below. 

They were under a huge beech which grew 
directly on the edge of the embankment. One 
great limb — an ordinary tree-trunk in itself 
— stretched at right angles over the bank. 

“ If I could crawl out on that,” said Harry, 
“ I could see clear of the spruces and underbrush, 
and find out what’s become of him.” 

Miffins felt like cursing his shrunken limb; 
but he looked unutterable encouragement at 
Harry. 

“ ril crawl out with you,” said Jim; ‘‘it’s 
a pretty ticklish place, for if you drop, you don’t 
touch bottom till you strike Beaver Dam. They 
say it’s as much as three hundred feet down, just 
here.” 

“ All right,” said Harry, and up went the two 
boys. Billy and Miffins watched breathless. 

Slowly Harry made his way out on the branch, 
lying flat upon it, and hugging it with both arms ; 
inch by inch he crawled out ten — fifteen feet, 


BLACK BEAR CAVE 


lOI 


then he was lost to sight. Jim followed him ; he 
too disappeared. 

“ Hullo ! ’’ cried Billy, growing afraid for 
Harry. 

Hullo yourself ! ” came back the answer. 

‘‘What d’yer see?” said Miffins. 

“ By cracky ! ” shouted Jim, “ this is worth 
coming for.” 

“Can yer see my dog?” cried Miffins. 

“ Yes,” Harry called back, excitedly, “ he’s 
nosing around on a broad ledge of rock just 
about twenty feet below us, where he’s landed 
safe and sound. Now he’s gone into the rock! ” 

“Inter the rock! What yer givin’ us?” 
shouted Miffins, troubled for his dog. 

“ Just what I say,” yelled Harry. “ I say, 
fellers. I’m coming back and going down the 
bank to see what’s there. Back off, Jim — easy.” 

“ All right,” said Jim, proceeding even more 
cautiously than before, and in a few minutes 
both boys stood under the beech, with only their 
trousers the worse for wear. 

“ What d’yer see ? ” cried both the other boys. 

Both Jim and Harry talked at once: 

“ I saw a great broad rock,” said Jim. “ And 
the Branch a-roaring over the dam,” put in 
Harry. “ And another rock rising right up 
from the broad one, and — ” “ And Fidget had 
found something, he came out of the rock — ” 


102 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ And there’s plenty of room for twenty people 
to stand on right over the river — ” ‘‘ And 

there must be a big cave down there — ” 

“ I say, let’s go down now,” proposed Billy, 
who, like Fidget, was longing to investigate. 
“ We’ll leave you here, Miffins, and we’ll bring 
your dog up with us.” 

Miffins heard the shouts as the boys swung 
themselves down the steep bank; then there was 
silence. Again he heard their voices, and soon 
they were scrambling and hoisting themselves 
up the ledge as best they could, bringing Fidget 
with them. 

“ We’ve found a cave,” they shouted as soon 
as they had regained breath, “ a double one ! ” 

I think it was a bear’s cave once,” said Jim. 

Let’s call it Black Bear Cave,” chimed in 
Billy. 

“ That sounds like ‘ Jack the Pirate,’ ” said 
Miffins. 

Who’s he?” asked the boys. 

‘‘ Oh, I read ’bout him in a book — my pal let 
me have it — ’n’ there wuz ’nother, ^ The Free- 
booters ; ’ they lived in a cave ’n’ got their grub 
’n’ things from other folks. They lived in a 
cliff, too. S’posin’ we play V Freebooters,’ ’n’ 
get our grub ’n’ live in the cave.” 

The boys agreed it would be great sport. 

'' And we can shoot things, and hang the skins 


BLACK BEAR CAVE 


103 


in the cave,” said Jim, who was already a crack 
marksman, and the proud possessor of a rifle. 

“ But how’ll we get you down there ? ” Billy 
asked Mifflns. 

I’ve thought er that; in the 'Freebooters’ 
the kids were lowered down the side of the cliff 
in er cage. If I could get some kind of er basket 
’n’ er rope, perhaps we could fetch it.” 

“ Oh, bully ! ” cried Billy, " we can get a 
clothes-basket — ” 

" And straps and a halter’ll do it,” interrupted 
Harry. “ I know where I can borrow some,” 
he added, slyly. 

Mifflns- chuckled. " Ther’ll be er lot er bor- 
rowin’ ’fore we get through; but mind yer — 
ther ain’t no peachin’ in this crowd,” he added 
threateningly. 

“ Not by a long shot,” said Jim, emphatically. 
" We’ll have a regular swearing in for every 
freebooter, and death to the one that peaches ! ” 
he exclaimed, quite tragically. 

" I wish Seth could come,” said Billy. 

" Who’s he? ” inquired Mifflns. 

“ Deacon Simms’s boy that’s living with him 
this year. He told me once he wanted to be a 
pirate.” 

"Won’t he peach?” asked Mifflns, suspiciously. 

" Not if he takes the oath,” Jim replied with 
an important air. " Can’t we get the books, 


104 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Miffins? If we could read them, we’d know 
just how to go to work to have the real thing.” 

Yup, ril Stan’ treat this time.” Miffins made 
the generous offer on the strength of his silver 
bits. “ ni send ter a newstan’ I know of ’n’ they 
can come by mail.” 

“ But they mustn’t come in your name or ours, 
or we’ll be hauled up,” said Jim, anxiously. 

‘‘ I’ll fix that,” replied Miffins. “ Nance Lis- 
com’ll send fer ’em, ’n’ they can come ter her.” 

But she’s a girl, an’ girls tell.” Billy was 
fearful. 

“ Most girls would, but yer may bet yer life 
Nance won’t. I know her.” Miffins’s faith re- 
assured the boys. 

Nance was commissioned at the earliest oppor- 
tunity to send for the books, a commission she 
undertook with alacrity, promising on her word 
of honor not to tell. 

Martha wondered that the boys should be so 
eager in the hot August weather to go black- 
berrying — little dreaming that the blacklegs 
were far thicker than the berries as the days 
went on, and that, up under the pines, four boys 
— for Seth had taken the oath — were listening 
to wild, blood-curdling tales of pirates and free- 
booters, and hair-raising, goose-flesh-producing 
stories of New York detective life. 

Miffins was reader, and the adventures of Jack * 


BLACK BEAR CAVE 


105 

the Pirate and his ilk lost nothing when rendered 
by him, and elucidated by his own experiences 
in the great metropolis. 

When it came to putting their freebooting and 
piratical intentions into action, they went about 
it with such secretiveness that it was a wonder 
they did not betray themselves. 

Nance had begged to be allowed to see the 
cave, but this was denied her. 

‘‘ ’Tain’t fer girls,” Miffins said, rather loftily, 
and with that Nance was obliged to be satisfied. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Flight 

T he villages of Barnet and Hurdyville had 
a sensation. Nance Liscom had run away. 
Jacob had driven down to the station that 
afternoon late in September, and brought the 
news home with him. He drove straight to the 
barn, and finished his chores before coming in. 
It was a cold night, the air keen and frosty. He 
stepped into the woodshed to bring in an extra 
armful of wood. 

As he entered, Martha missed the usual cheery 
greeting. 

Well, father, ain’t you ruther long gittin’ 
in? You’ve been gone a long time. Why! ” she 
exclaimed in alarm, as she went up to him and 
laid her hand lovingly on his shoulder, don’t 
you feel well, Jacob?” 

‘‘ Yes, marm, yes, I feel well enough in my 
body, but I’m clean down in sperits.” 

“ Why, Jacob, do tell, what is it? ” questioned 
Martha, anxiously. 

io6 


FLIGHT 


107 

“ Nance Liscom’s run away, ’n’ nobody knows 
where to look fer the gal.” 

Martha threw up her hands in horror. Oh, 
Jacob, you don’t mean it!” was all she could 
say at first. Then, as the tears gathered in 
her eyes, she wiped them away with the corner 
of her apron. 

“ Set up, father, do, ’n’ have your supper. 
You can talk while you’re eatin’.” 

Jacob pulled his chair up to the table, but 
waited a minute for Miffins, who was busying 
himself with some late-hatched chickens by the 
kitchen stove. 

“ Come, sonny, come,” he said. You’ll want 
ter hear, fer Nance wuz er good friend o’ yourn.” 

Miffins took his seat, and busied himself with 
his baked potato. 

Here, take your tea first, father,” said Mar- 
tha. “ How’d you hear of it? ” 

Jacob gulped down half the contents of his 
cup, and passed it over to be filled again. 

“ Why, Ezra Slocum was drawin’ wood ter 
Mis’ Liscom’s this forenoon, ’n’ she asked him 
ef he’d see Nance anywheres on the road ’twixt 
their place ’n’ Reuben’s. She said she’n’ Dan’d 
been er lookin’ fer her everywhere sence break- 
fast, coz she wanted her to help in some rug- 
weaving. Ezra hadn’t seen anything of her, but 
that wasn’t nothin’ strange, coz she oftener’n not 


io8 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


takes the hill road ’n’ over our back paster. Yer 
didn’t see nothin’ of her, did yer, sonny ? ” said 
Jacob, interrupting his story to look sharply at 
Miffins. 

'' No, I ain’t seen her for a week,” the boy 
replied, without looking up from his plate. 

Wal, Mis’ Liscom was madder’n er hornet, 
’n’ sent Dan over to Reuben’s to see ef she wuz 
there. But they hadn’t seen her fer a week, ’n’ 
Reuben had one of his poor spells ’n’ got all 
upsot worritin’.” 

“ Hadn’t anybody seen her in the village ? ” 
asked Martha. 

“ No, not er soul, ’n’ the curus part of it is 
thet ’long ’bout noon, jest ez soon ez Dan got 
back, ’long come a telegram from Montpelier — ” 

“Montpelier!” exclaimed Martha, “how in 
creation could she get to Montpelier by noon ? ” 

“ Wal,” continued Jacob, “ thet’s the dum- 
foundedest part of the hull on’t. It ’pears thet 
Seth Dyke, thet drives the late mail-stage over 
the mountin, wuz stopped by a woman on the 
Creek Road who give him ’n envelope ’n’ er 
quarter, ’n’ sez she, / You pass this on ter the 
man ez drives the stage to Montpelier ’n’ ask 
him to send this telegram from there ez quick ez 
he can.” 

“ Well, this beats all ! ” said Martha. “ Here, 
father, you ain’t eatin’ a mite er supper.” 


FLIGHT 


109 


“ I can’t, Marthy, I can’t,” he said, pushing 
his plate aside. “ I can’t eat er thinking er that 
poor gal all sole alone er goin’ perhaps to ruin.” 

‘‘ Come now, father ! ” comforted Martha, 
“ we won’t think it’s er goin’ ter be as bad as 
that — ■” 

“ Wait till I tell yer,” said Jacob. “ Wal, ez 
I said, ’bout noon come a telegram to Mis’ Lis- 
com. ‘ I’ve gone to join a circus, ’n’ you needn’t 
look fer me.’ Now what d’yer think er thet?” 
said Jacob, bringing his fist down on the table 
till the dishes clattered. 

That’s awful ! ” said Martha, in a frightened 
voice. Oh, Jacob, you don’t think she’s been 
led away, do you ? ” 

“ The Lord knows,” replied Jacob, solemnly. 
“ It’s bad ’nuff fer an innercent gal to go inter 
them cities alone — but ter jine a circus! — 
Marthy,” he said, with trembling voice, ‘‘ I’ve 
alius wanted a gal ’er my own to call me father, 
but if I’d had four. I’d ruther seen ’em all er 
lyin’ where our boy lies ter-night, than know one 
on ’em had jined a circus.” 

“ So’d I, Jacob,” said Martha, the tears over- 
flowing. 

‘‘What can they do? What can be done?” 
cried Martha, wringing her hands in her distress. 

Miffins could bear no more. He knew he 
should have to leave the room or speak. He put 


no 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


on as bold a face as he could, and, hitching over 
to the stove, busied himself again with the 
chickens, while he said in a voice that sounded 
queer in spite of himself : 

“ I think they’re er makin’ a big row ’bout 
nothin’. I’ll bet it’s one er Nance’s tricks.” 

‘‘ Yer do, do yer?” roared Jacob. ‘‘ Wal, 
ye’ll know more when ye’re older. I s’pose yer 
think coz ye come from that Sodom ’n’ Gomor- 
rah old town o’ yourn, yer could teach yer bet- 
ters — hey? Now, look er here,” — he strode 
over to Miffins, and, seizing him by the arm, 
forced him into the lamplight, — yer’ve got 
nothin’ ter say about it; it’s my say this time; 
now, mark my words, ef I knew the man who 
had influenced thet motherless ’n’ fatherless girl 
ter run away ter jine a circus, I’d take that shot- 
gun right down from the rack up there, ’n’ load it 
with the biggest buckshot I could find, ’n’ never 
rest till I’d peppered his durned hide with it — 
I would! Now yer know what sort of er man 
yer’ve got ter deal with once ’n’ fer all.” 

Jacob had roared his righteous indignation 
out, and Miffins hitched away to the woodshed, 
glad to escape those flashing eyes. 

“ Jacob, Jacob,” Martha said, appeasingly, 
“ you’re too hard on the boy ; he ain’t to blame 
for thinkin’ ez he does. You fergit he hain’t 
had no bringing up.” 


FLIGHT 


III 


“ Wal — ’twill be er lesson ter him anyway. 
I can’t sleep till I know all ther is ter know,” 
said Jacob. “ I’m goin’ ter harness up agin, ’n’ 
go down ter see if they’ve got track er her yit.” 

Nor I nuther,” said Martha. I’ll set up 
for you.” 

In a few minutes, Miffins heard the light farm 
wagon rattling down the hill. Then he returned 
to the kitchen. He didn’t feel comfortable — 
but he said to himself they were making “ no 
end of a row about it,” and went early to bed 
hugging that thought. 

But once in his bed he began to think differ- 
ently. Where was Nance now? Just about 
getting into the Grand Central Station, and he was 
safe in bed ! Suddenly the remembrance of other 
nights came to him, when he had stood outside 
that same station, shivering with cold and blow- 
ing on his numb fingers, ready to post a letter for 
a man, carry his bag, or sell him a paper, for 
the sake of an extra cent. He remembered the 
nights he had hung around the lunch wagons 
at twelve and one o’clock just to smell the hot 
coffee, before he sought shelter in the newsboys’ 
lodgings. And he had known the great city — 
and he was a boy! And Nance was a girl, and 
had never seen such a thing as a trolley. 

His own leg was twinging with the sudden 
cold snap. And just as it gave a mighty twinge, 


II2 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


he thought of the trolleys, and all the black 
horror of that moment came over him, when 
he felt himself go under — the horrible wrench 
and strain, as if body and soul were rent in 
twain, and the moment afterward, when he 
rolled from beneath, and shrieked as he looked 
up at a horse’s hoofs, just ready to plant them- 
selves on his breast. 

And Nance! Nance was a girl, and didn’t 
know anything about trolleys — he hadn’t 
thought to warn her about anything, she was so 
fearless. But now — what if she should go 
under! A cold sweat broke out over his whole 
body; cold chills ran over him. He sat up in 
bed, and listened for some sound. He heard only 
the fire crackling in the kitchen stove, for Martha 
had put on fresh fuel to keep the room warm 
against Jacob’s return. 

Did Jacob suspect him? Would he put that 
buckshot into him if he knew ? 

These were some of his thoughts ; and a thou- 
sand more coursed through his mind as he lay 
in the warm feather bed, and shivered with a 
horror unknown to him before. Twice he got 
out of bed to tell Martha that Nance was by 
this time at the Grand Central Station in New 
York; and twice, fearing the consequences, 
and remembering his promise to Nance not to 
tell if they branded him with a hot poker like 
the calves, he crept back again. 


FLIGHT 


113 

The kitchen clock struck rapidly, twelve, and 
from the best room across the passage, the old 
eight-day clock answered it with twelve solemn 
strokes. Miffins caught a faint clatter of hoofs 
on the road. Jacob was coming. 

Martha heard it too ; she hastened to the 
kitchen door, and as Jacob drove into the yard, 
she called out: “ Have they heard? ” 

‘‘ Yes, marm,'’ Jacob’s voice sounded cheerily 
again through the night. “ They’ve got er tele- 
gram sayin’ she’s in New York ’n’ all safe, will 
be ter home ter-morrer.” 

“ Thank God,” said Martha Foss, and Miffins, 
not knowing what he was saying, repeated for 
the first time in his life, ‘‘ Thank God,” and went 
to sleep. 

While every inhabitant of Barnet and Hurdy- 
ville was discussing the how and where and why 
of Nancy Liscom’s disappearance, and many a 
good woman with girls of her own shook her 
head, and declared she always knew Squire Lis- 
com’s girl would come to grief, she’d set herself 
so above other folks, Nance was faring south- 
wards toward the city of her dreams. 

She and Miffins had planned it all up under 
the pines after the last rehearsal, and she 
followed out the program of departure to the 
letter. She had written the telegram herself, 
and ridden to the house over the mountain, 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


114 

where she had delivered it to a small boy, bidding 
him to tell his mother that a neighbor had sent 
it, and it must go to Montpelier by stage that 
night. After breakfast, she had taken an old 
valise of her father’s, and filled it with her scant 
wardrobe, some gingerbread cookies, a few early 
apples, her circus ” gown of cheese-cloth, her 
stockings and cloth sandals. Into the waist of her 
dress she pinned the twenty dollars which were 
her very own, and waiting for her opportunity, 
slipped from the house when Mrs. Liscom and 
Dan were busy in the garret getting ready her 
grandmother’s loom for rag-carpet weaving. 
She took the short two-mile cut through the 
woods and along the railroad embankment to 
the station, and waited by the trestlework 
bridge just below the railway company’s wood- 
shed. When she heard the whistle of the ap- 
proaching ten o’clock express, she ran along the 
embankment on the farther side of the station 
where no houses could overlook her, and, keep- 
ing close to the rear of the train as it passed her 
and drew slowly to the station, swung herself 
on to the rear platform and sat down in the end 
seat. Not till the train was off, and she had 
made sure that no village acquaintance was in 
the car, did she draw a free breath. She paid 
her fare, eight dollars, with the apology that she 
had had no time to get her ticket. Then she 
began to enjoy herself. 


FLIGHT 


115 

With every mile that the iron horse put be- 
tween her and her native village her spirits rose. 
Every mile was bringing her nearer to her 
longed-for goal. 

When twilight fell and the train steamed out 
of New Haven, her excitement was intense; in 
three hours she would be there I 

She bought a New York paper, and, following 
Miffins’s directions, looked for the advertise- 
ment of a circus or show. Sure enough, she 
found it ! In great headlines : 

‘^TO-NIGHT!! 

SWANK’S CIRCUS 
FAMOUS BAREBACK RIDERS! 
MLLES. DESIREE AND ROSALIE IN 
THEIR WORLD-RENOWNED FEATS. 
GREAT TRAPEZE ACT BY DILKE 
BROTHERS 

Performance begins promptly at 8.30. Boxes 
for sale; Centre Garden, the Bowery.” 

Nance’s heart throbbed quickly as she read. 
She could scarcely wait for the arrival of the 
train due at the Grand Central Station at 7.30. 
Miffins had told her about the approach to the 
great metropolis, and, pressing her face against 
the pane, she looked down the interminable lines 
of lighted streets until the tunnel shut out the 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


1 16 

brilliant sight, and the slowing up of the train 
and the uneasy movem'ents of the passengers 
told her she was there — at last ! 

'' Don’t have nothin’ ter do with the perlice,” 
cautioned Miffins. “ Them fellers as has blue 
coats ’n’ brass buttons ’ll swipe yer up, if they 
find out yer alone, ’n’ snake yer off ter some 
‘ home,’ where they’ll make yer wipe dishes for 
yer grub.” 

That was enough for Nance, and as she passed, 
one of the great, indifferent crowd of travellers, 
up the platform toward the waiting-room, she 
kept a sharp lookout for blue coats and brass 
buttons.” Sure enough, at the end of the plat- 
form she saw several, and, dodging past them, she 
followed the crowd that streamed toward a great 
central door. Before she knew it, she was on 
the street, dazed with the deafening rattle 
- and roar, the shouts of the cabmen, the rapid, 
sharp clang of the trolleys. She was evidently 
in the way, for she was hit and jostled and nearly 
fallen over by the hurrying throng. Turning 
from the glare of an electric light, she saw a burly 
form in blue coat and brass buttons loom before 
her. Like a startled fawn, she started to flee — 
whither she did not know — and bump ! she 
would have been knocked over by the sudden 
impact, had not a strong arm caught her on the 
rebound. 


FLIGHT 


117 

“ I beg your pardon, are you hurt ? said a 
man’s voice, and a gloved hand straightened the 
old-fashioned felt hat that the contact had 
knocked over her eyes. 

Nance was dazed by the shock. It had 
flung the valise out of her hand, and, in look- 
ing around for it, she was aware that her arm 
was still in a strong grasp. She looked up — 
the big policeman ^as a reality; it was he who 
held her fast by the left arm. 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” cried Nance in her misery of 
terror, for the “ home ” and the “ dish-washing ” 
loomed large in her imagination. Her face lost 
all its color, and her great eyes sought wildly 
around her for deliverance. 

“ I’m terribly afraid you’re hurt,” said the 
voice that had spoken before. 

Nance turned toward that voice for help, at 
the same time trying to wrench herself free 
from the bluecoat’s grasp. 

‘‘ Easy — easy,” said another voice, gruff, but 
not unkind. ‘Hf I let you go you might run, so 
I’m just holding on to you for safety. Girls ain’t 
generally afraid of me.” 

No, no, I won’t run,” cried Nance, catching 
her breath with a frightened sob, for she was 
only a girl, if only you won’t take me to the 
home — oh, please don’t ! ” 

“ Look here,” said the other voice, “ I’ve got 


ii8 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


this child into this scrape by not minding where 
I was going — supposing, sir, you let me get 
her out of it?” Nance saw the gloved hand 
present a card to the policeman. 

“ That’s all right, sir, — glad to meet you,” said 
the policeman. “ Anything . I can do for you 
on my beat, just let me know.” 

Thanks,” said the other, “ I may need your 
help before long. Good evening,” and the 
gloved hand met the big policeman’s, as Nance 
could see, in a cordial clasp. The policeman 
released his hold on Nance and turned away, 
scattering as he did so a little crowd that was 
beginning to gather about the group. 

“ Come with me into the waiting-room a 
moment, and let’s see what the damage is,” said 
the kindly voice, and Nance clasped her rescuer’s 
arm with a clutch which rivalled the policeman’s. 

The man smiled to himself. “ Poor thing,” he 
muttered, and strode up the steps with the valise 
in one hand and Nance clinging desperately to 
his right arm. 

“ Here, sit down here for a few minutes, and 
then perhaps I can escort you to your address,” 
he said, courteously. “It’s hardly safe” (“for 
a child” he was going to say; but just then 
Nance raised her eyes to her preserver’s face, and 
he finished) “ for a young girl to come alone into 
a strange city. Are you sure I didn’t hurt you ? ” 


FLIGHT 


119 

“ Not a bit,” and Nance’s pretty smile came 
out like a burst of sunshine from a cloud, “ but 
I fear I broke your eye-glasses. See ! ” she said, 
“ the frame is empty.” 

“ You did, indeed,” laughed the man, '' and 
I shall have to depend upon your eyes a bit in 
taking you home.” 

Again Nance lost all her color, and her 
startled eyes sought the young man’s, for he 
was both young and very good-looking, as Nance 
had seen with that first look. 

“ Oh, don’t, please don’t — anything but 
that ! ” she pleaded, clasping her hands in en- 
treaty. “ I’ve come to see the circus, and I’ve 
waited so long I should ” — a sob — 1 should 

die, if I didn’t see it now when I’m so near ! ” 

“ The circus ! ” exclaimed the young man 
under his breath, but aloud, “ You’ve come to see 
the circus at this time of night, and alone ? ” 

‘‘Yes, all the way from Vermont — I won’t 
tell you where from, unless you promise not to 
send me home. If you try to do thatT — the 
girl drew herself up and became all dignity so 
suddenly that John Anstey was startled, — “ I’ll 
run away from you the first chance I get ! ” 

John Anstey thought very hard for a minute, 
then he saw his line of action with this unaccount- 
able, but, to him, fascinating girl in her old- 
fashioned dress and her old-fashioned hat, with 


120 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


her manners that were neither old-fashioned nor 
new-fashioned, but simple and childlike, dignified 
and womanly almost in one and the same moment. 

Apparently he paid no attention to Nance’s 
threat, somewhat to her amazement, but, thrust- 
ing his hand into his breast pocket, took out a 
card and handed it to her. 

Permit me,” he said, with grave courtesy, 
to make myself known to you. I am John 
Anstey, at your service.” 

Nance took the card and read it. 

“Mr. John Anstey, 

ooo Fifth Avenue.” 

“ Why ! ” she exclaimed, with a beaming smile, 
“ how nice ! That’s near where my cousins live.” 
She hoisted the valise to the seat, before the man 
was aware of what she was doing, opened it, and, 
rummaging about with one hand, brought forth 
a lot of visiting-cards. 

“ There! ” she exclaimed to the amazed young 
man, “ now we can compare notes,” and she 
thrust them into his hand. 

“ They’re not all my cousins, you know, but 
the Mr. and Mrs. are, and one of the young ladies. 
I’ve seen them all, but I don’t know them.” 

And John Anstey read — read the eight well- 
known names of his own and his mother’s set, 
all living within a few blocks of him. 


FLIGHT 


I2I 


“Were you going there?” he asked. 

“ Oh, no — not yet ! Not till I had distin- 
guished myself,” said Nance, calmly. 

Anstey suppressed a smile. 

“ Would you mind telling me how you intend 
to distinguish yourself? ” he asked, deferentially, 
and Nance was enough of a girl to feel the charm 
of manner. 

“ Not in the least,” replied Nance with equal 
courtesy. “But it mightn’t interest you?” she 
added, with a searching look. 

The man bore it well. 

“ It would interest me more than I can say,” 
he hastened to assure her, “ especially as I am 
well acquainted with your cousins, and know 
their friends.” 

“ Well, then. I’ll tell you. I am going to join 
a circus, and become a famous bareback-rider. 
I’ve practised ever so long, and ever since I was 
so high. I’ve just yearned ” (words fail to con- 
vey Nance’s passionate emphasis of that word) 
“ to see a circus.” 

John Anstey took out his handkerchief sud- 
denly and smothered a cough. It was the most 
diplomatic thing to do at that important moment. 

“ Have you made — er — any engagement? ” 
he asked, after his spasm of coughing. 

“ Oh, no, not yet. That’s what I’ve come down 
for. I’m going to-night.” 

“ To-night?” 


122 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Yes, and it must be about time to go,’' said 
Nance, suddenly recollecting that she was due at 
that performance in the Bowery at 8.30. 

The young man hesitated. He could not risk 
failure at this stage of proceedings. He must 
feel his way. 

“ Would you kindly tell me your name? ” 

“ Certainly,” she laughed. I somehow took 
it for granted you knew. I am Nancy Liscom; 
my father was Squire Liscom of Barnet — 
There ! ” she cried, with a merry laugh, “ I’ve 
told without meaning to — but you won’t send 
me home!” she pleaded, with all the charm of 
her sweet voice. 

‘‘No, I won’t send you home,” he answered 
her, gravely, “ but I should esteem it a favor 
if you would tell me if your parents knew you 
were coming here — to see the circus.” 

“No,” — she looked up into his face with truth- 
telling eyes, — “ no, my parents didn’t know I 
was coming, for I haven’t any; they’re dead. I 
ran away from my stepmother.” 

Something dimmed Anstey’s eyes just then. 
When he next spoke, it was in a still graver 
tone. 

“ I’m very sorry for you, Nancy, sorry that 
you have no parents, and sorry you had to run 
away from any one. Did no one know of your 
coming? ” 


FLIGHT 


123 


“ No one but Miffins/’ 

“Who is Miffins?” 

“ He’s a crippled newsboy that came from New 
York to live with Mr. and Mrs. Foss. He and 
I planned it all together, and he promised not to 
tell. He showed me how to do the circus feats, 
the hurdles and hoops.” 

The man was completely mystified. 

“ Nancy,” he said, quietly, “ I’d like to go 
with you to the circus this evening. I could, 
perhaps, be helpful to you in showing you the 
way and getting your tickets, — and after that is 
over, where shall I take you ? ” 

“ Why, I don’t know exactly,” said Nance. 
“ I thought — I thought perhaps, after they had 
seen me ride, they’d take me in, and I could sleep 
in the tent with the other girls.” 

“ Good God ! ” the exclamation escaped Anstey 
before he knew it. 

Nance looked frightened. “ What have I 
said ? ” she demanded. 

“ Pardon me, Nancy, I had a little sister once, 
your age, I judge, and I was thinking of her. 
If you don’t care to make your engagement with 
the circus just to-night, perhaps it would be bet- 
ter to be my mother’s guest.” 

“ Well, I think it would,” replied Nance, with 
a sigh of relief. “ But if we don’t hurry, we 
shall be late — we are late now ! ” she exclaimed, 
excitedly. “ Oh, do let’s be going.” 


124 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ But first I must telephone to my mother ; 
she is expecting me to dinner/’ He stepped 
to the telephone office, leaving Nance on the 
seat. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The Circus in the Bowery 


M r. JOHN is telephoning,” said the butler 
in a low voice to Mrs. Anstey, as she sat 
at her exquisitely appointed dinner-table, enter- 
taining her guests. 

Answer for me, Joseph,” she said, quietly. 
The butler disappeared, only to emerge in a mo- 
ment from the pantry, and whisper again : 

“ Mr. John says he must speak with you pri- 
vately, ma’am.” 

“ Very well, tell him I’ll come.” 

She excused herself to her guests, and placed 
herself at the telephone. 

Is that you, mother ? ” 

‘‘Yes, John. Why aren't you at home? It’s 
broken up the whole dinner.” 

“ Can’t help it this time, mother. I’m off for 
the evening on a little mission work of my own.” 
“ Oh, John — but just to-night.” 

“Yes, I know, mother, — but I’ll tell you all 
about it to-night when I come in. I sha’n’t be 
125 


126 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


in till late, and I wish you’d sit up for me — get 
the others to bed if you can — and, mother — ” 

‘‘ Yes.” 

Just have that upper hall-bedroom ready for 
a guest to-night, will you?” 

Yes, of course I will, dear. One of His 
guests ? ” 

“ Yes, I see you understand. It’s a girl — 
about fifteen — this time. A newsboy’s protegee.” 

‘‘What will come next, John?” 

“ I don’t know, mother — ‘ me and the girl,’ I 
hope. Good-night.” 

“Oh, John!” 

And the telephone rang down. 

“ Now, Nancy,” he said, as he returned to 
the girl, “ we’ll send this valise on ahead. If 
you should need it for any engagement, it can 
easily be brought down to us. But I can’t enjoy 
the circus thinking that people are looking for 
you away off there in Vermont. There must be 
some one who would worry about you. Think ! ” 

“ Why, yes,” said Nance, thoughtfully, “ dear 
old Dan would, and Uncle Reuben — and Aunt 
Liscom, and Mr. and Mrs. Foss — and — and — 
well, I suppose Mrs. Liscom would like to know 
where I am; perhaps they might worry just a 
little. I didn’t think of Uncle Reuben — he is 
ill — ” 

“ Then I think you ought to think of him, and 


CIRCUS IN THE BOWERY 


127 


you have no right to enjoy your evening while 
others are distressed about you. Now I want 
you to do me a favor.” 

“ What is it? ” said Nance, on her guard. 

“ I want you to let me telegraph Mrs. Liscom 
that you’re here, and safe to-night with my 
mother. Then I shall enjoy my evening.” 

‘‘ I suppose I ought to,” said Nance, reluctantly, 
but I wish you would telegraph to Dan instead.” 

“ No, Nancy, I shall telegraph to Mrs. Liscom; 
it’s her right to know.” 

“ Well, do as you please,” said Nancy, airily, 
and John Anstey felt actually grateful to her. 
This was the’ telegram that sent Jacob Foss light- 
hearted homeward at midnight, and caused Mar- 
tha, his wife, to thank God. 

'' New York, Grand Central Station, 8.15 p. m. 

“ To Mrs. James Liscom, Barnet, Vermont. 

Nancy is safe, and will spend the night in 
my home in my care. She returns to-morrow. 
I am a friend of her cousin, Mrs. Barnard. 

‘‘ Elizabeth Anstey, 

000 Fifth Avenue.” 

By the time the telegram was sent, Nance’s 
impatience was plainly visible. As they went out 
into the street again, more than one turned to 
look at the odd couple. The girl never knew how 


128 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


she got to Centre Garden, for John Anstey 
helped her into a cab, and, jumping in himself, 
bade the man drive to the Bowery. 

“ Call for you, sir ? ’’ 

“ Yes, half-past ten,” said Anstey, and the 
two got out at the entrance to the garden, which 
was blazing with a thousand colored lights. 
From within the entrance corridor, came a burst 
of music — such as it was — and Nance’s eyes 
shone. 

For a moment, even John Anstey hesitated; 
then, setting his lips firmly, he said to himself : 

‘‘ It must be ; it’s either kill or cure to-night. 
I’ll save her if I can. — Keep close to me, Nancy.” 

Nance looked up at the tone; it did not sound 
natural. Then she followed him in. He took 
a box, that the girl might be near the performers. 
While making the purchase, Nance kept close 
by him. She knew instinctively with her up- 
bringing that the men and boys about her were 
not such as she should be with. There were loud 
guffaws — smoking, chewing — drinking already 
at a small bar at the farther end; they crowded 
and jostled. There was a cool breath as the 
baize doors opened to let them in, and a smell 
of fresh tan-bark and sawdust. The ‘‘ garden,” 
or hall on the ground floor, was draped to imitate 
a tent, and lanterns and streamers gave color to 
the hangings. 


CIRCUS IN THE BOWERY 


129 


Anstey had taken the box next the per- 
formers’ entrance to the ring, so that every word 
of those “ behind the scenes ” was audible. A 
boy dressed in blue velvet coat and knee-breeches, 
and ruffled, soiled silk shirt, came to the box and 
handed up a tray of glasses filled with something 
dark — the very odor of which sickened Nance. 
She turned away her head in disgust. The band 
brayed in the pit beneath them. 

Suddenly from within the entrance came the 
sound of a scuffle — then blows and curses. 
Nance turned an appealing look upon her com- 
panion. 

That’s always the preliminary,” he said, smil- 
ingly — “ that’s part of the program in a 
circus. I’ll take you behind there later on, if you 
wish.” He spoke with the utmost assurance and 
indifference. 

Nance had no answer ready, for just then 
there was a double fortissimo burst of music — 
a wild clapping of hands, hoots, and catcalls, as 
the circus cavalcade leaped out from the draped 
entrance beneath the box. Nance held her breath. 

How fine they looked at a distance ! — and 
how unfine near to, as they cantered out almost 
within arm’s reach of Nancy. The girl saw their 
white and red painted faces, their coarse harle- 
quin suits, — none too clean, — the ghastly mask 
of the clown, the wizened, rouged faces of the 


130 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


pages, boys and girls of her own age, the chat- 
tering, grinning monkeys as outriders, the gilt 
chariot with the statuesque group of girls — 
Nance turned away her head for shame — where 
were their clothes! For of tights she never had 
a suspicion ; they were unknown to her. And the 
expression of the faces beneath the paint ! Hard 
and set even in their smiles. 

Anstey said to himself a dozen times, as 
he watched the girl’s face, “ I am cruel to do this. 
It would have been so much easier to keep up 
the illusion. But I must save her from her folly. 
God help me.” 

Then the performance began. But Nance 
cared little for the monkeys and trained dogs, for 
the clown and his jokes at which the house was 
in an uproar, nor for the trick-horses standing 
in pyramids, nor for the wonderful trapeze acts 
of the Dilke Brothers. 

She was waiting for the bareback riders. At 
last! 

She heard an oath beneath her, answered by 
another ; then a voice — a woman’s : 

“ I tell you I can’t ride to-night. I’m faint.” 

You shall ride.” Then followed a brutal oath 
— the sound of a blow — and a woman’s sup- 
pressed cry. 

Nance turned to John Anstey, white and trem- 
bling. Oh, take me out,” she cried ; ‘‘ I can’t 


CIRCUS IN THE BOWERY 


131 

bear it. If she rides and is faint, she’ll fall. 
You can’t ride unless you feel sure of yourself. 
I know, because I’ve tried it.” 

“ Hush, Nancy,” said John Anstey. “ It’s 
nothing unusual.” And Nancy waited, sick and 
trembling. 

Had her ears deceived her? Out came the 
two riders, on exquisite cream-white horses, smil- 
ing, bowing, with garlands of artificial flowers 
in their hands, their dresses of glistening gauze 
flashing silver and gold in the electric lights, 
leaping, pirouetting, light as thistle-down on the 
backs of the superb animals. Round and round 
they went with ever-increasing speed, joining 
hands, separating, ever bowing and smiling. Up 
went the hurdles — over went the beautiful steeds. 
Up went the hoops — a burst of music — crash ! 
they flew like darting humming-birds through the 
hoop. But as they passed beneath the box, Nance 
saw their heaving chests, caught the sound of 
the quickly drawn breath, saw the hollowed 
cheeks beneath the paint, saw, too, with her keen, 
practised eye, that one of the girls could ride 
but little farther. 

She clutched Anstey’s aiTn and whispered, 
“ She’s going to fall ; she never can go through 
that hoop and light on the horse — I know she 
can’t. Oh!” 

Mile. Rosalie had mlade one last effort to fly 


132 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


through the hoop — and failed, missing both hoop 
and horse. She fell fainting in the ring. They 
bore her out quickly — and Nance burst into 
tears. 

“ Oh, take me away — take me away,” she 
cried, her voice almost drowned in the groans 
and hisses that went up from the benches. 

‘‘I think she’s had enough,” said the young man 
to himself, smiling grimly, and led her out by 
the hand, asking permission to pass out at the 
back entrance. His request, emphasized by a 
half-dollar, was granted, and as he drew Nance 
through the ill-assorted crowd, she caught one 
glimpse of a quiet figure that) lying unconscious 
in a dead faint on an old piece of carpet, still had 
painted roses on her cheeks. 

It was a very miserable girl that sat beside 
John Anstey during the long four-mile drive 
from the Bowery to Fifth Avenue — a miserable, 
tired, hungry, and disheartened girl, who had 
had a day of unwonted excitement, who had had 
no dinner save the gingerbread and apples, whose 
castles in Spain had all tumbled about her ears, 
and who had the first headache of her life — the 
result of the smoke and noise and excitement and 
a day’s fast. 

For awhile Anstey thought a good cry 
would do her good, but as the sobs decreased 
in quantity, they did not improve in quality ; they 


CIRCUS IN THE BOWERY 


133 


dwindled into a long-drawn breath and a little 
moan, which was more than John’s tender mas- 
culine heart could bear. 

“ We’ll soon be at home, Nancy,” he assured 
her, cheerily, “ and then my mother will put 
everything right.” 

“ I don’t think she can,” moaned Nance. 

“ Why not?” 

‘‘ My head feels so queer. Oh, dear ! ” — the 
sobs broke out in their natural key again, — ‘‘I 
wish I were at home ! ” 

“ Well, we’ll see that you get there soon, 
Nancy. How does your head feel?” 

“ Just queer and hot and heavy.” 

A thought made the man start. 

“ Where did you get your lunch ? ” 

“ I had some gingerbread and apples with me.” 

“ Where did you get your dinner ? ” 

“ I haven’t had any.” Nancy’s voice was al- 
most inaudible, but John Anstey heard it, and 
he himself almost had a qualm just at the thought 
of all that vile tobacco smoke and nothing to 
help sustain it. 

‘‘ You poor child ! ” he exclaimed. “ I’ve been 
a brute.” 

Nance looked up and actually smiled through 
her tears. 

“ You sha’n’t call yourself names,” she said ; 
then after a moment’s hesitation, she added. 


134 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


gravely, I think you have just the manners 
Saint George must have had.” 

Anstey, in the shadow of the cab-corner, 
blushed like a girl. He had never had a compli- 
ment which rang so true. But he turned it off 
with a laugh and a “ Here we are ! Now for 
mother and some lunch.” 

He let them in with his key. 

“John, is that you?” a sweet voice called 
from the head of the stairs. 

“Yes, mother, here we are. Come right up, 
Nancy.” 

Mrs. Anstey, stepping back into the library, 
wondered what she was about to see. 

“ Mother, this is Nancy Liscom, a cousin of 
the Barnards.” 

“My dear — girl” (child, she was about to 
say), “you are very welcome,” and the sweet- 
voiced woman advanced to meet her with out- 
stretched hands, and, taking the white face 
between them, kissed her forehead. 

“ Fm going to run down, mother, to see what 
is left over from dinner in the cold storage closet 

— for ” — he smiled significantly at his mother 

— “ neither Nancy nor I have had any dinner, 
and Fm hungry.” 

“ Let me take your hat and jacket, my dear. 
Not any dinner! Why, how did that happen?” 

Nancy’s eyes filled with tears, and looking 


CIRCUS IN THE BOWERY 


135 

straight into Mrs. Anstey’s gentle blue ones, she 
said, with trembling voice: 

Would you mind, Mrs. Anstey, if I didn’t 
talk about it now? I don’t think I can bear it 
— and Mr. Anstey will tell you all about it.” 

“ Of course he will, my dear. You’re all tired 
out and need sleep — for I see you have a head- 
ache.” She laid her hand gently on the crown of 
beautiful dark-red hair, and Nance felt better 
immediately for that one touch. 

John Anstey came up with a loaded tray, and 
Nance felt more interest in life at the sight. 
Soon they were doing justice to the cold chicken 
and rolls, the currant jelly and tongue sand- 
wiches. While the two ate, and her son kept up, 
as well as he could between mouthfuls, a running 
fire of questions as to their guests and the dinner, 
Mrs. Anstey observed Nancy, who ate in silence. 

She saw before her a tall girl, so graceful and 
well-shaped that even the ill-fitting serge dress 
could not conceal the comeliness; a fine-shaped 
head, with an abundance of heavy hair of a won- 
derful color, neither red nor brown nor golden, 
but something of all three, that hung in heavy 
loose curls to her waist; an oval face with a 
delicate, sensitive mouth, a pretty nose, and large, 
gray eyes that at that moment looked black be- 
cause shaded by long, dark lashes. 

“ She would be a perfect beauty, but for the 


136 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


freckles/^ was Mrs. Anstey’s verdict. I can't 
wait,” she thought, to get her up-stairs to bed 
that I may hear John’s story — and the Barnards' 
cousin, too! I don’t understand it.” 

I’ll take our guest in charge now, John,” she 
said, when they had satisfied their hunger. 
“ Come, my dear,” and she held out her hand. 

Nancy Liscom rose, and all her birthright as 
a gentlewoman, all her mother’s grace and charm, 
all her father’s careful instruction came to her 
aid at that moment. Before taking Mrs. Anstey’s 
hand, she turned to her son, and holding out her 
own, said: 

Mr. Anstey, I understand now many things 
that were a mystery to me before I came to New 
York — and, not having a father or mother to do 
it for me, I want to thank you for saving me 
from what you have. Good-night.” 

Anstey could not speak at all. He pressed 
the hand held out so frankly to him, and 
just as the girl left the room with his mother, 
the great clock on the landing chimed twelve. 

“ Thank God,” said the young man, reverently. 

The next day, when Nancy Liscom arrived at 
Barnet on the six o’clock train, Dan met her at 
the station and drove her home in the friendly 
twilight. 

Miffins did not see her for a week afterward, 
then he heard her bright voice at the kitchen door. 


CIRCUS IN THE BOWERY 


137 


He was husking corn with Jacob in the barn, 
and kept steadily at his work. Jacob rose from 
the old splint-bottomed chair on which he was 
sitting. 

‘‘ I’m goin’ in ter see Nance. It sounds good 
ter hear her voice agin. Cornin’ long, sonny ? ” 

“ Bimeby,” said Miffins, husking faster. The 
longer he waited, the harder it became to go into 
the house. Somehow he didn’t feel like seeing 
Nance. 

But Nance saved him the trouble. He heard 
a light step, and, looking up, saw her standing on 
the wharfing. 

“You don’t look very hospitable, Miffins. 
Don’t you want me to pay you a visit ? ” 

Miffins hardly knew what to say, and what he 
did say was anything but what he intended to: 

“You back, Nance!” 

Nancy’s eyes flashed. “ You know I’m back, 
Miffins Foss, as well as you know you’re here; 
and you knew I went too ! ” 

Miffins searched among the heap of corn husks 
for a small ear he had dropped. Suddenly Nance 
dropped upon the heap, effectually preventing 
further search, and crossing her legs a la Turque, 
leaned her elbows on her knees and her chin on 
her hands, looking straight at Miffins, till he was 
compelled to look at her. 

“ Now, then,” she said, in a low voice, that 


138 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


she might not be heard beyond the threshold, ‘‘ I 
have a few words to say to you. I suppose you 
think I’m going to blame you for helping me 
off — and tell you how I got there, what I did, 
and why I came home the next day? Well, I’m 
not going to say one single word about it, so 
now ! and you needn’t ask me any questions, for 
you won’t get any answer, nor will any one else, 
they may try till they’re gray. But there is one 
thing I’ve got to say to you, and that’s about 
myself, and that is I owe you an everlasting debt 
of gratitude for putting me up to what you did 
— and now find out if you can what I mean by 
it ! ” she exclaimed, triumphantly ; leaping to her 
feet, and holding out her hand frankly, she added : 

“ There, now, shake hands, and let by-gones 
be by-gones. I was always a good friend of 
yours,” — this quite condescendingly — “ and 
you didn’t tell.” 

“ What d’you take me for, anyway ? ” growled 
Miffins, ignoring the proffered hand. 

Nance laughed merrily. “ For a boy that needs 
to be taught manners for one thing, and for an- 
other, a boy who is to be pitied for what he 
doesn’t know about some things worth know- 
ing ! ” And with this mysterious answer, of 
which Miffins thought many times in the future, 
she ran away to the house to chat with Martha 
Foss, whose curiosity also remained unsatisfied. 


CIRCUS IN THE BOWERY 


139 


No one in the two villages of Barnet and 
Hurdyville knew anything definite of Nance’s ad- 
ventures during the forty-eight hours she was 
from home. The only fact that was known was, 
that she had come home, after some one had tele- 
graphed to Mrs. Liscom, with a letter addressed to 
the latter; that the letter stated she had spent the 
night at a friend of her cousins, the Barnards, 
and she had been met at the station by a member 
of the family. More than this Jane Slocum 
Liscom could not know, for there was that about 
Nance after her return which forbade too close 
questioning. To one and all, even her uncle and 
aunt, she made the same answer, “ I was enter- 
tained by a friend of my cousins. I prefer not 
to say anything more about it.” Gradually the 
village people grew tired of asking her, and the 
affair became merely a nine days’ matter of won- 
derment. But no one, save the four hill people 
and Dan, liked her the better for refusing to 
indulge their curiosity. 


CHAPTER IX. 

The Freebooters 


I T was the most glorious month in the year — 
October. There seemed to be thirty-one days 
of golden sunshine and thirty-one nights of fine 
moonlight, and our Freebooters determined to 
make the most of it. 

On the plea of butternutting and wood-pussy 
hunting, the Slocum boys or Jim Leonard were 
at the Roost every other day with the old farm 
wagon to carry off Miffins; and Jacob gave ready 
consent, for he was proud of the great improve- 
ment in the boy’s looks and strength. He was so 
helpful, too, indoors, that Martha said he de- 
served to have this month for out-of-doors. “For 
the time’s cornin’, father, when he’ll have ter be 
penned up here with us old folks too much. 
’Tain’t ez if he could git out in the heavy storms 
like other boys.” 

Many a quart-pailful of appetizing dinner 
she put up for her boy on his “ expeditions,” 
from which he did not always return with 

140 


THE FREEBOOTERS 


141 

spoils, — mince pie and sage cheese, bread and 
blitter and cold boiled beef, and a full pint of 
coffee in the lower compartment of the pail. 

It was so easy for the boys to drive Miffins 
down to the Branch Road, and leave him there 
in the bushes, and then drive up to the edge of 
the butternut woods and tie the horse to the 
fence, while they ran back and, carrying Miffins 
on their crossed hands down the slope, lower him 
in the basket to Black Bear Cave. 

The cave was growing to be a cosy place 
which any boy would have found fascinating. 

Jim had manufactured a rude gun-rack, and 
hung it on the side of the outer cave. Billy 
Slocum had “ borrowed,” so he termed it, a 
buffalo robe from Deacon Simms’s carriage-loft, 
and a few bushels of corn-husks made a fine under 
bed. This they made up in the inner cave, for 
the blockading of which they had a large, flat 
stone of slate, that had served somebody for the 
cover of a spring, and which, with great difficulty, 
they lowered on to the ledge. By combining 
their efforts, they could shove this before the inner 
opening. 

Somebody’s meal-chest — Harry Slocum would 
not tell whose — was their provision closet, and 
held a goodly store of butternuts, cheese, apples, 
spruce gum, crackers, raisins, cigarettes, a few 
cigars, and a half-dozen bottles of “ three per 


142 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


cent.,” a cheap beer that was sold at the one 
restaurant in Barnet and not to be touched by 
the law. On the ledge in front, and just outside 
of the outer cave, they had made a hearth of 
clay, hollowing it in the middle to hold coals, 
as Billy had read the South American Indians 
did when they resorted to their palm-leaf mat- 
tings in the trees in time of flood. 

Within the cave, they had a fine pile of small 
hickory and birch, pine knots, and a store of 
birch bark. Two well-cured sheep-skins furnished 
the boys with mats. 

The outer cave itself was dry and fairly warm 
when a good fire was kindled just outside the 
entrance. On the sides hung two fox-skins, soft 
as silk, three rabbit-skins, and eight squirrel- 
skins, their hunting trophies thus far. 

The night they slept in the cave was one long 
remembered. 

The boys had met the day before in the back 
pasture, whither Mifiins had gone, by appoint- 
ment, to salt the sheep. The colts and cattle 
had been brought down into the ‘‘ home pasture.” 

Billy was blue, because he couldn’t find a way 
to spend the night in their snug hiding-place. 
Harry had suggested a half-dozen plans in which 
Jim Leonard had found the weak points every 
time. Seth was beginning to hint about backing 
out, much to the other boys’ disgust, because he 


THE FREEBOOTERS 


143 

was afraid he would lose his place if the deacon 
found him out. Miffins came to the rescue. 

“ Tell yer what, fellers, there ain’t but jest 
one way.” 

What’s that ? ” chorused the boys. 

‘‘ Yer’ve got ter whop it out.” 

What d’you mean ? ” said Jim. Lie it 
out?” 

‘‘ Yup, it’s easy ez winkin’. See?” And he 
winked so prodigiously that the boys shouted. 

I wish yer’d begin with me,” ventured Seth. 

‘‘Well, you’re the squeamiest; we’ll give you 
the easiest. You tell the deacon that Jacob Foss 
asked yer if you could come over ’n’ help me git 
the sheep down from the back pasture. He 
ain’t goin’ ter be ter home till night, fer he’s 
goin’ ter the fair; I can get ’em down well ’nuff 
myself — but you whop so; will yer?” 

“ But I don’t see how that’s er goin’ to git me 
off fer a night.” 

“Yer bloomin’ idjut! Tell him yer can’t git 
home till after dark, so yer goin’ ter stay with 
me.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Seth, “ but ef I stay with you, 
how’ll we git ter the cave with the rest of the 
boys?” 

Miffins appealed to the boys. “ I say, fellers, 
can’t yer knock daylight inter that bloomin’ — ” 
But he didn’t finish the sentence, for Seth’s fist 


144 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


fitted itself none too gently into Miffins’s mouth 
and shut it up rather suddenly. 

“ You ain’t er goin’ ter call me no more names. 
I’m ez good ez you ’n’ better, fer folks say you’re 
a — ” But neither was Seth allowed to finish his 
sentence, for three boys were on top of him in 
less than no time, and six hands were punching 
his head face downwards into the turf. 

“ Let up, fellers,” cried Miffins, “ he’s had 
’nuff,” and he assisted the much-abused Seth into 
a sitting posture. 

Now, shut up, all of yer, till I tell yer what 
yer must do. Each of yer say he’s goin’ ter 
sleep at ernother feller’s, ’n’ that’ll make it square 
all round.” 

So it was settled. 

Billy’s spirits rose at the prospect. Seth was 
to spend the night with Miffins, Miffins with Jim, 
Jim with Harry and Billy, and the last two were 
to have an invitation to their cousin Sam’s on 
the North Branch Road. 

‘‘ I’ve found a dark lantern in the garret,” said 
Jim, ‘‘ and I’ll be there at six ready to light the 
rest, so you won’t lose your bearings. I’ll meet 
you, Miffins, at Cross Corners. I’ll bring along 
the little go-cart to help you on from there.” 

“ I’ll give the countersign,” said Billy, who 
was inventive ; “ we’ll spell Miffins’s name back- 
wards and answer ' sniffim.’ ” 


THE FREEBOOTERS 


145 


'‘We'd better meet ’bout seven, then we can 
have a longer night of it,” suggested Harry. 

“ All right,” said the boys, and they separated. 

They were far more excited over the escapade 
than Miffins, and each, as he turned homewards, 
was thinking how he could get out of telling that 
lie. It didn’t come easy to them, and when Jim 
Leonard followed his father out to the barn, he 
chose to be very busy with a halter in the stall, 
from the depths of which he asked : 

“ Say, father, Harry and Billy want me to 
spend the night with them ; can I ? ” 

“ What’s up ? ” said Parson Leonard. 

“ They want to go butternutting early the next 
day up in Mr. Liscom’s wood-lot. There’s two 
or three bushels up there.” 

“ I don’t mind if your mother doesn’t ; let her 
know before you go.” Which was just what 
Jim hadn’t the courage to do, so he left his father 
to tell her, and slipped away early about five, per- 
suading himself that he had not lied, for Harry 
and Billy did want him to spend the night with 
them, and he would propose the butternutting ex- 
pedition early on the morrow, so that part of 
the story might come true. 

It was easy enough for Mifhns to get permis- 
sion from kindly Martha Foss. 

“ You’re in good company with Parson Leon- 
ard’s son, ’n’ you can go early. Barzy’s cornin’ 


146 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


over ter help with the chores ’n' he’ll take you as 
fur as Cross Corners, ’n’ father’ll come fer 
you in the mornin’. Father’ll be home by nine, 
’n’ I stayed many a night alone on the hill ’fore 
you come. Be sure you have enough clothes on 
you to-night; boys kick round so you might lie 
half uncovered ’thout knowing it, ’n’ it’s goin’ 
ter be a snappin’ night.” She stooped to kiss 
him — but Miffins shied, and Martha laughed, 
patting his head. 

With Seth and the Slocum boys it fared hard. 
The deacon was naturally suspicious of every- 
body who was “ hired help,” and Seth came 
through the ordeal rather the worse for it. The 
deacon had lost his temper because Seth stum- 
bled in his lie, and given him a sounding thwack 
on his ear before granting his request. 

Air yew growin’ deef ? ” he thundered, when 
Seth, rather than tell lie number two, did not 
answer him ; and forthwith he proceeded to stim- 
ulate his hearing by a mighty cuff, which hurt 
Seth’s pride more than his ear, and made him 
determine to run away from such a tyrant at 
the first opportunity that presented, and turn 
freebooter in reality, coming back in due time 
to plunder and burn the deacon’s farm and build- 
ings. But he got off at last. 

Billy and Harry had their own trials; not of 
conscience, for it was not the first time they had 


THE FREEBOOTERS 


147 


whopped to attend some “ spree ” in the vil- 
lage, but of a material kind. In their excite- 
ment, they neglected to do some of the “ chores : ” 
the wood-box was left empty, the brindle cow 
unmilked, and the second and third stall horses 
left without a shake-down of straw for bedding. 
All this their father discovered when they had 
been gone but twenty minutes, and, putting him- 
self on his black mare, overtook them on the 
road (to their cousin’s!) and brought them 
back, one before and one behind him, to finish 
their work. In consequence, it was eight o’clock 
before Jim, who had been flashing his lantern 
at minute intervals for two hours, heard a rus- 
tling in the bushes above him, and called, “ Who 
goes there ? ” 

‘‘ Sniffim,” answered two well-known voices, 
and the late comers were received with a shout. 

“ Oh, but it’s bully ! ” they cried, as they 
dropped on to the ledge, and no wonder they 
thought so. 

The boys had built a fine fire on the hearth, 
and the flames sent their dancing lights into the 
cave as far as the inner opening. Within they 
had spread their feast on the meal-chest — cheese 
and cold pie and doughnuts and apples; it was 
a royal supper 1 And they lay or sat on the sheep- 
skins and kicked their heels — for they could 
not turn somersaults, the roof was too low — 


148 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


and shouted for joy. They had no fear of being 
heard, for the Branch thundered over the dam 
below, and the fire crackled and snapped, and 
the air-bubbles burst with a report like small fire- 
arms. After the supper came the “ small ” beer 
and the cigarettes, and after the cigarettes, a 
cigar apiece — and Billy and Seth and Jim, who 
had never smoked one before, ceased to kick their 
heels, and lay suspiciously quiet, while Mif- 
fins and Harry guyed them to their hearts’ 
content. 

The effects passed off, however, before mid- 
night, and what with smoke and beer, and the 
dizziness occasioned by both, they were all five 
blear-eyed and sleepy by eleven o’clock. 

The Freebooters were ready -to turn in, but 
who should watch? No one offered, for each 
felt he could not keep his eyes open five minutes. 

“ We’ll let the fire die down,” said Miffins, 
and just keep the coals a-goin’.” 

“ I’ll do the first watch,” said Seth, coz I’d 
like some more air. How much did yer pay fer 
that cigar of mine, Harry ? ” 

“ If I tell you, you’ll feel worse; you go watch 
and think about it.” 

“ I sha’n’t watch but ’n hour,” said Seth. 

All right,” said Jim, “ I’ll take the next.” 

‘‘ ’N’ me next,” said Miffins, and between them 
they divided the remaining hours of the night 
most satisfactorily. 


THE FREEBOOTERS 


149 


They could not wait to “ turn in.” They 
crawled into the inner cave, spread the sheep- 
skins over the corn-husks, and, lying spoon- 
fashion,” drew the buffalo robe close over and 
around them. 

Miffins, lifting his head once, looked out 
through the opening, and saw Seth sitting with 
his back against the cave, his feet stretched to 
the fire, his eyes fixed before him. 

The Freebooters were sound sleepers, but they 
all were roused by a heavy body tumbling in 
upon them. Eight arms and eight legs resented 
the intrusion, and inextricable confusion reigned 
in the darkness. 

In the chaos, Seth’s voice was scarcely audible. 
His teeth were chattering, and he clung first to 
a leg, then an arm — whichever happened to be 
uppermost. 

“ Strike a light. What time is it ? What’s up? 
Can’t you speak? Get off of my leg.” 

“ Sh-sh ! ” chattered Seth. 

For a wonder, the boys obeyed, and carried 
on their conversation in whispers. 

“Got a match, Billy?” 

“Yes, here ’tis.” 

“ Sh-sh,” said Seth, “ don’t light up — it’ll be 
here in a minute.” 

“ Wot’ll be here ? ” said Miffins. “ Stop yer 
jaw-mill, ’n’ tell us wot’s up.” 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


150 

“ I wuz watchin’ — ” he was interrupted by 
a smothered laugh from Jim — ‘‘I tell yew I 
wuz,” he said, fiercely, below his breath, '' 'n’ I 
heerd somethin’ come pad, pad, paddin’ down 
the bank over the ledge; it rustled ’n’ rustled ’n’ 
then stopped, ’n’ then — ” 

“ And then you fell in on top of us, and just 
as we — ” 

Sh-sh ! I hear it ! ” whispered Seth. 

In spite of themselves, every boy’s ear-drums 
were strained to the splitting point. 

Sure enough ! There it was ! The “ pad, pad, 
paddin’ ” above their heads. The moon had set, 
and the fire had died out. 

Suddenly, there was a heavy thud, apparently 
just over the roof of the cave, then the sound of 
a large body scrambling down through the brush- 
wood. 

The boys breathed heavily. 

Get yer gun, Jim,” said Miffins, which was 
easier said than done, for Jim was at the bottom 
of the pile of boys, “ ’n’ gimme the hatchet, 
’n’ Harry, you take my crutch.” 

The three boys disentangled themselves, and 
crawled out into the outer cave, where they lay 
close, scarcely daring to breathe. Jim’s finger 
was on the trigger. 

The great body made its way cautiously down 
the bank, slipping and sliding, and finally landed 
on the ledge. 


THE FREEBOOTERS 15 1 

“ Don’t fire till yer see his eyes, Jim,” whis- 
pered Miffins, raising the hatchet. 

For a minute, not a boy of them all breathed. 
“Sniff — sniff — pouf!” Then four eyes looked 
cautiously into the cave. 

There was a deafening explosion ; the cave was 
filled with the smell of powder. Seth had caught 
and thrown up Jim’s arm just as he pulled the 
trigger. 

“ It’s Tiger ! ” he shrieked ; “ the deacon’ll kill 
me for not shuttin’ him up.” 

It was Deacon Simms’s great mastiff, who 
weighed easily one hundred and eighty pounds, 
and with him, as convoy, was Miffins’s collie 
puppy, Fidget, who, like-minded as Tiger, had 
scented his master from the Roost to the cave. 

“ Oh, cracky, what ef yer’d shot him ! ” 
groaned Seth. 

“ Shut up, you blockhead ! ” roared Jim. 
“ ’Twould have been your own fault for get- 
ting scared of nothing. You went to sleep the 
first thing.” 

“ I didn’t,” said Seth, stoutly. “ I wuz awake 
most er my hour.” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” jeered the boys. 

“ Wal, anyway, ’tain’t fur from sunrise, ’n’ 
I’m goin’ ter hev some sleep ; the dogs can watch 
now. I’m so stiff, I can’t but jest move.” 

“ Go to bed, granny,” said Miffins, and they 


152 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


bundled him into the little cave with Billy. 

Let’s build up the fire, boys.” 

They fell to work, and soon were warming 
their feet and hands at the hot blaze. 

Tiger and Fidget stretched out on the ledge 
to leeward of the heat, and rested from their 
midnight labors. 

When morning broke, the Freebooters could 
not break their fast, save with apples and raisins, 
— and the ice had formed on their water-bucket. 

Billy shivered, and looked blue as indigo, and 
Seth groaned with every movement. 

“ Let’s go home early, boys,” said Jim, who 
was trying to invent a consistent lie to account 
for his early home-coming without butternuts. 

“ I’m feared Tiger’ll scent that robe, ’n’ the 
deacon’ll find us out ! ” moaned Seth. 

Yer’d better be startin’ early, then,” said Mif- 
fins, “ so’z ter get home ’n’ chain him up.” 

Seth muttered something, and, calling Tiger, 
began to scramble up the bank. 

Hold on there ! ” cried Jim. Don’t you 
sneak off that way.” But Seth only scrambled 
the faster, as if his stiffened joints had been sud- 
denly oiled. 

Miffins laughed. Let him go ; we’ll pay him 
up ’fore we’re through with him.” 

It was a hard pull for Miffins up the hill road. 
The boys had done their best, carrying him over 


THE FREEBOOTERS 


153 

the rougher places, but he refused to let them 
help him after the highway was reached. 

He set bravely to work to crutch it along the 
two miles, but he sat down oftener and oftener, 
as the hill grew steeper. The perspiration stood 
in beads on his forehead. His breath grew short ; 
his leg ached terribly. He was sitting by the 
roadside, shivering in the crisp morning air, when 
he heard a wagon coming down the hill. It was 
Jacob Foss. 

Hello, sonny ! ” he called, cheerily, “ yer’ve 
got ahead of me this time. I meant ter meet 
yer at Cross Corners; I reckoned you’d git ’bout 
that fur by this time. I knew yer’d come home 
’fore breakfast. ’N’ Fidget followed yer, hey?” 

But Miffins was too exhausted to answer. 

Well, I declare for’t, yer be used up ! Guess 
home’s the best place fer growin’ boys,” and 
Jacob lifted Miffins into the wagon as tenderly 
as when he took him from the station four months 
before. 


CHAPTER X. 

John Anstey 


I T was a dreary night in November. Few peo- 
ple were on the streets, that looked dim and 
snow-blown in the swirling sleet that drove up 
from the bay. 

John Anstey sat in his den in the third story 
of the great house on Fifth Avenue. There was 
a glowing fire of sea-coal in the ample grate. 
Heavy curtains of a warm, rich red were drawn 
before the windows. Now and then, a fierce blast 
from the sea swept the city and roared into its 
chimney-throats. 

It was a large room, the walls lined with low 
book-shelves, filled to overflowing, with gun- and 
pipe-racks. 

A mahogany writing-table was piled with pam- 
phlets and loose sheets of manuscript; in the 
centre was a basket of growing ferns, for 
Anstey liked always a bit of green-growing 
things about him when he worked. An exquisite 
girl’s face, painted on an oval of ivory and cased 
in violet velvet, stood just at one side of the fern- 
154 


JOHN ANSTEY 


155 


basket. The chairs and chintz-covered couch 
were simple enough, but the skins of the Alaska 
bear and fox that lay about on the polished floor, 
and the few etchings and water-colors on the 
walls, gave an air of elegance and richness to 
the room. 

John Anstey sat on a low chair before the 
grate. There was no light but the firelight. His 
elbows were on his knees and his head sunk and 
face buried in his hands. It was an attitude of 
deep thought and dejection. 

He was twenty-eight, stood five feet eleven 
in his stockings, was a blue-ribbon Yale man of 
’8—, and wore his Phi Beta Kappa key with par- 
donable pride. He was one of the best half-backs 
Yale had ever produced, deep of chest, broad of 
shoulder, clean-limbed and clean-lived — one of 
the best specimens of American manhood and 
muscular Christianity. 

After leaving college, he had prepared himself 
for his lifework, which was to aid, to the extent 
of his heart, his head and his money, his fellow 
men. 

He was known among his mates as “ the 
Reformer,’’ among the up-town newsboys as 
“ my Fifth Aveny pal,” among the lower East- 
side residents as ‘‘ the man who runs the lodging- 
house,” and among men who watched the signs 
of the times as the best organizer among the 
younger generation. 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


156 

He had just completed his plans for his winter’s 
work, which was his joy, for his heart and soul 
were in it, and now he must give it all up, and 
fight for his life. He groaned as he sat there 
with his head in his hands, bowed, as if weighted 
with sorrow. 

It was so hard to give it up ! So hard to begin 
the struggle, and the physician had said “ No 
delay.” 

He knew a year ago that all had not been 
quite right, but thought little of it, he was so 
strong. But of late he had been warned, and 
the physician’s examination had settled the 
matter. He must go away to a high, dry climate, 
to strengthen the citadel of his life, his lungs. 
The doctor had suggested a year of out-of-door 
living in the Tyrol. But John Anstey shook his 
head. 

No foreign lands for me, now,” he said. ‘‘ If 
I’ve got to die. I’ll die where I love to live, in 
America.” 

“ Pooh ! Don’t talk about dying,” said the 
doctor. 

But he knew it was bluff, and took it for what 
it was worth. He had made up his mind, how- 
ever, to live if he could. 

“ The Adirondacks,” the doctor suggested 
again. But again John Anstey shook his head. 
“ Colorado ? ” 


JOHN ANSTEY 157 

“ No, I must go where I can work, or there’ll 
be no use — I’ll think it over.” 

“ And let me know you have your bag packed 
by the end of the week,” said the doctor, with a 
clasp of the hand that spoke for him. 

Where should he go? That was what Anstey 
was thinking as he groaned into his hands. 

He had not as yet told his mother and father. 

He rose at last with the problem unsolved, and 
lighted the student-lamp on the table. The young 
sister’s exquisite face looked up at him from under 
it. He was no coward, but the remembrance of 
the quick passing of that young life, and the 
sharpness of his own grief and of those he loved, 
overpowered him. 

We will leave him with himself for a few 
minutes. 

There was a knock at the door. John answered 
it by opening it. Joseph gave him a letter. 

“ A letter, Mr. John, as Mrs. Anstey has just 
read — and would you read it before dinner ? ” 
Yes.” He sat down by the table, unfold- 
ing the sheet without interest. The letter ran : 

‘‘ Hurdyville, Vermont, 
''Nov. 15th, 189-. 

"My dear Mrs. Anstey: — You told me to 
write you when I felt like it. I have felt like 
it many times, and should have answered your 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


158 

kind letter before, but I didn’t want to write 
wholly about myself, so I waited until I could 
send some news. 

“ I have plenty now ! You remember I told 
you about Miffins, the crippled newsboy at Mr. 
Foss’s? I don’t think he meant to get me into 
any trouble, not really — and he really didn’t, 
you know, because through him (in a very 
roundabout way, to be sure) I came to know 
you and Mr. Anstey. But he has got some really 
nice boys into trouble, and I only wish Mr. 
Anstey were here to straighten them out, as he 
did me! 

He read dime novels to them, ‘ Jack the 
Pirate,’ — he lent it to me once, but I was dis- 
gusted after reading two chapters, — ‘ The Free- 
booters,’ and detective stories, and told them all 
about New York until they got quite wild to 
do something irregular. Fm not blaming them, 
you know, because I was just as bad myself once, 
— not so very long ago ! — as you and Mr. An- 
stey know, but I’m just telling you the news. 

“ The boys knew of a cave near the Branch, 
and they made Miffins their leader, and stole 
things ! calling themselves ‘ Freebooters.’ They 
stole from lots of people. The Congregationalist 
minister’s son was one, and Lawyer Slocum’s 
two boys, and a poor fellow called Seth, who is 
Deacon Simms’s — he is the Methodist deacon — 


JOHN ANSTEY 


159 


hired boy — that is, he works for his board and 
clothes and goes to school in the winter and 
spring terms — were the others. 

“ They stayed all night finally in the cave, and 
Billy Slocum is ill with pneumonia, because 
it was such a cold night. Seth has been arrested 
for stealing the deacon’s buffalo-robe, but he says 
he didn’t. The queer part of it is, the boys won’t 
tell on each other, and nobody knows but me 
why Billy is ill and who is to blame. 

“ I wish I could see you or Mr. Anstey for 
five minutes to talk with and tell me if I ought 
to tell. You see Miffins never told on me — and 
it seems so mean for me to turn ‘ State’s evidence,’ 
as papa used to say. 

‘‘ Can’t you tell me what to do ? 

‘‘ You remember you said I really ought to 
go to school this winter. Mrs. Liscom won’t af- 
ford it — and I won^t go to the district school. 
They have had such a queer specimen for a 
teacher. The boys played all sorts of tricks on 
him, and the girls made a muff and gave it to 
him, he was such a ‘ sissy.’ 

“ He’s gone now ; he told the committee he 
couldn’t stand it — and I think it must have been 
rather trying. But I don’t know as I blame them 
much — when you don’t respect any one, it is 
not so bad to make fun of them, is it ? 

‘‘ The schoolhouse is closed now while the 


i6o 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


committee try to find another teacher; it will 
be hard work, I imagine, for the salary is only 
eight dollars a week, and the teacher ^ boards 
’round.’ If only I were a man. I’d offer myself. 

“ How I would love to give you a kiss and 
tell you how different things are since you talked 
with me that morning I left ! And Mr. John — 
I can never tell him what I feel about it all. Give 
my love to him, and tell him Mr. and Mrs. Foss 
are as dear and lovable as ever — and I envy 
naughty Miffins living with them. 

“ I have been angelic lately ; sewed together 
four rag rugs (I hate them!), washed dishes 
every meal without a murmur, and knit Dan a 
pair of mittens. Tell Mr. Anstey I’ve read that 
lovely book he sent me, and have learned all those 
French verbs except two. 

“ Do please write me soon and tell me if you 
think I ought to tell I I say soon; that means in 
two or three days, because Billy’s pneumonia has 
taken, the doctor says, ‘ a turn for the worse,’ 
and Seth is locked up in Deacon Simms’s cider- 
mill I Lovingly, 

‘‘ Nancy Liscom.'^ 

With John Anstey, to think was generally to 
act. He had been thinking so long without action 
as he sat before the firelight for the last two 
hours, that it was a relief to summon Joseph, 


JOHN ANSTEY 


i6i 


to write a telegram, to pen two letters, and plac- 
ing a special delivery stamp on each, ask for 
an answer thereto by telegram. 

He went down to dinner apparently in the best 
of spirits, and no one dreamed, as he chatted and 
laughed with the two guests and his father and 
mother, that only an hour before his soul had 
been in the shadow of the valley. He had found 
— or as he preferred to put it to himself — been 
shown, a solution of his problem. 


CHAPTER XL 

The New Boarder 

A VIGILANCE Committee had been formed 
in Hurdyville, and Jacob Foss was one of 
the three; Deacon Simms and Lawyer Slocum 
were the other two. 

They had called a meeting in the village 
grocery, which was also the post-office, and the 
place at which all telegrams arriving at Barnet 
were delivered. 

Deacon Simms had caused the constable, a 
burly lumberman of Barnet, to arrest Seth on 
circumstantial evidence of having stolen his buf- 
falo-robe. In vain Seth protested his innocence. 

“ Yer’ll prove it,” said the deacon, grimly, and 
forthwith locked him into the cider-mill, which 
was kept fairly warm, as the deacon was doing 
his fall slaughtering and sausage-making in it. 

Complaints had been coming in from one 
farmer and another, that this thing or that thing 
was missing — nothing of great value in itself, 
but it made them uneasy. Lawyer Slocum had 
162 


THE NEW BOARDER 163 

appointed the committee to hear complaints and 
endeavor to detect the culprit. 

Late on this special November afternoon, sev- 
eral had driven up to the grocery store, and, while 
waiting for the mail by the Barnet stage, entered 
their complaints. 

Jacob was writing on a barrel head. 

“ You take evidence, Squire Slocum, ’n’ Fll set 
down the items. 

“ Mem. Forty foot half-inch manila rope. I 
must say I’d hate ter lose thet. 

‘‘ Mem. One wilier clothes-basket — when did 
yer wife miss thet, Joe?” 

’Bout four weeks ago, ’n’ she’s hunted high 
’n’ low fer it ever sence.” 

Mem. Two old halters, one good hold-back. 
Them’s yourn, Barzy?” 

“ Yes,” piped an old man with a dried-apple 
face. But I ain’t complainin’, Jacob; I don’t 
want ter set nobody agin me — only it makes me 
so pesky mad ter hev things taken right from 
under my nose.” 

‘'Yer right, Barzy; I hain’t missed nothin’ 
yit, but mebbe I shall. Reuben Liscom’s missed 
two sheep pelts he’s been savin’ fer foot-warmers 
this winter. 

“ Mem. Two pelts.” 

“ I might er split up my old meal-chest last 
winter,” drawled Farmer Babcock, “ but anyway 
it’s gone.” 


164 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


'' Mem. One meal-chest. 

Mem. One good buffalo-robe.’^ 

“ I missed my small hatchet lately,” said 
Lawyer Slocum, “ but I may have mislaid it.” 

Mem. One small hatchet,” repeated Jacob. 

Thet’s all ? Wal — thet’s a purty good showin’ 
of deviltry fer one small town. Guess ’twas time 
we kept our eyes peeled. There’s the stage.” 

The stage-driver put a telegram into Lawyer 
Slocum’s hand. ‘‘ That come this mornin’, but 
there warn’t nobody ter deliver it.” 

Mr. Slocum looked at the address. ‘‘ To the 
Members of the School Committee, Hurdyville, 
Vermont.” He opened it quickly. 

Would like to secure the place at present 
vacant as teacher in the district school. Am a 
Yale graduate, twenty-eight years old. Refer- 
ences follow in letter. Wire answer. 

John Anstey, 

University Club, New York City.” 

'‘Well, this has the right ring,” said Mr. 
Slocum. " Guess I’ll telegraph, ' If references 
satisfactory, place is yours.’ This takes a load 
off of my mind.” 

Jacob was turning a letter post-marked New 
York over and over in his hand. 

" This beats all creation ! Who could be er 
writin’ ter me from New York?* Guess I’ll take 


THE NEW BOARDER 


165 

it home to Marthy ’n’ we’ll read it tergether.” 
He placed it carefully in his breast pocket. 

Lawyer Slocum had already spread the news, 
and in a few hours it was carried by stage and 
farm wagon over the hills and through the 
valleys. 

Jacob’s excitement increased as he neared the 
Roost. What could the letter mean? 

“ Marthy, Marthy,” he called out as he drove 
into the yard. Martha appeared at the kitchen 
door with her apron thrown over her head, for it 
was a bitter night. 

“ Here’s a letter from New York — open it 
quick, marm, and tell us what’s in it. I’ll be 
back by the time you’ve got the sense o’ it.” 

He was back in a few minutes. “ Wal, sonny, 
yer ain’t left no chores fer me; everything ez 
snug and slick ez ef I’d done it myself, ’n’ I don’t 
say thet often ter any man. — Now, marm, read 
thet letter.” 

Martha had opened the envelope with the 
bread-knife, and looked at the signature, which 
did not enlighten her in the least. So she turned 
to the beginning : 

‘‘ University Club, New York City, 
November i6th, 189—. 

Mr. Jacob Foss. 

“ Dear Sir : — I have applied for the position 
of teacher in the district school of Hurdyville. 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


1 66 

If my application receives an affirmative answer, 
I should like to ask a favor of you and Mrs. 
Foss. I have heard of the location of your farm 
and of your home, and, if possible, would like to 
secure board with you during the winter and 
spring. 

“ I should require two rooms — a bedroom and 
sitting-room, the sitting-room and bedroom to 
have open fireplaces, if possible. If convenient, 
I should like my breakfast in my own room — the 
other two meals I should prefer to take with the 
family. For wood — I shall require a great deal 
of it — and service, I shall pay extra. Kindly 
let me know by telegraph if you can accommodate 
me in case I receive a favorable answer from the 
gentlemen of the committee, and oblige. 

Yours truly, 

“John Anstey" 

Martha dropped the letter in her lap. 

“ This beats all, father.” 

“ I never heerd of city boarders in winter, 
marm. But I guess we’ll hev ter say ‘ yes.’ I 
like thet letter. What do you say? Fer you’ve 
got the hardest part.” 

“ I’m willin’,” said Martha. “ The more in 
the old Roost the merrier, father, for there’s no 
chickens to come home to it.” Her blue eyes 
filled. 


THE NEW BOARDER 167 

What hev you got ter say ’bout it, sonny? ” 
said Jacob, clapping Miffins on the shoulder. 

“ I’d like it well ’nuff, if he ain’t a dude.” 

Dude er no dude, I guess he knows er thing 
or two — he’s college eddicated.” 

'' Anyway, I’ll help Mother Foss all I can,” 
said Miffins, looking of¥ into the corner of the 
room, for it was the first time he had called her 
that — and the Vigilance Committee had set him 
thinking. 

'' Bless the boy,” said Martha, I couldn’t 
have boarders without him, that’s certain. Well, 
father, what’ll you write? He can have the best 
room across the passage and the little bedroom 
out of it. I don’t mind shiftin’ the things, though 
they’ve stood there many a year. He wants you 
to telegraph — what er you goin’ to say ? ” 

Jacob sat down at the supper-table, and taking 
an old piece of brown paper from his wallet, with 
a pencil stub busied himself for a few minutes 
without answering. 

Then he looked up. Thar, read thet, 
Marthy.” 

And Martha read: 

“ To John Anstey, 

University Club, New York City. 

“ We’re agreed, and you can have the best 
room and the little spare bedroom, and as for 


1 68 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


wood and service, you can have the run of the 
hundred acre wood-lot for nothing, and Fm at 
your service gratis. Board three dollars a week, 
and no washing. 

Jacob Foss.’^ 

That telegram’ll cost er sight, Jacob,” said 
prudent Martha. Can’t you cross out some of 
them ‘an’s’?” 

That’s easy,” said Jacob, and pared down 
the message. 

“ Agreed. Best room with spare bedroom 
yours, wood-lot yours gratis ; service of me ditto. 
Board $3 per week. No washing.” 

Now, how’s thet? ” 

‘‘ It don’t sound quite so good ’n’ welcome as 
the other, Jacob. He might git a poor impression 
of us from that.” 

So it was decided to send the telegram as it 
read at first, and Jacob drove down again after 
supper to despatch it. 

John Anstey roared when he received it at 
eleven that night. The laugh did him no end 
of good, and he felt more courage than at any 
time since yesterday, when he had known the 
doctor’s decision. 

With the message in his hand, he knocked at 


THE NEW BOARDER 


169 


his mother’s door, and, finding her still up, sat 
down on the rug and laid his head in her lap, 
as he had always done in the crises of life ever 
since he was a boy — and broke to her as gently 
as he could his decision and the necessity for it. 

The Roost was a busy place during the next 
three days, for John Anstey had telegraphed he 
would be there on Saturday. Martha had hired 
in some “ help,” and the rag carpet was taken up 
in the best room and bedroom, and the deal floors 
scrubbed nearly white. The boarder had sent a 
letter after the telegram, in which he said he 
would like bare floors and little furniture. He 
would like Jacob to buy for him a large common 
kitchen table of hard pine, and a wood-box with 
a cover. He would bring with him his cot and 
mattress and a few things from home. He 
begged Mrs. Foss not to give herself too much 
trouble in attempting to arrange the rooms, as 
he would take pleasure in doing that work him- 
self. 

I can’t make them rooms look homelike, 
father,” said Martha in despair, after the second 
day’s preparations. “ What does he want of 
bare floors? The rag carpet was so cheerful- 
lookin’. I had a lot of them rags dyed red to 
make it look warm.” 

Wal, marm, he knows what he wants; them 
city fellers hez their own notions; we’ll warm 


170 THE LITTLE CITIZEN 

him ’n' feed him, ’n’ I guess he’ll hev ter do the 
rest.” 

It was five days before Thanksgiving. Jacob 
drove down to Barnet to meet the six o’clock 
train, and as he waited for it, walking the 
platform and swinging and slapping his arms, 
for it was stinging cold, he recalled that hot July 
day when he had waited for the “ waif ” from 
the same city. 

‘^Guess the Roost’ll end by being er kind'uv 
asylum for city folks,” said Jacob to himself. I 
don’t s’pose, now, that young feller hez thought 
anything ’bout bringin’ anythin’ extra fer these 
high latitudes uv ourn; I’ve got ’n extra robe 
’n’ my old overcoat ter help out with. Mebbe, 
too, he can’t afford much extra — them teachers 
is generally pinched after they’ve got through 
college; and worked his way, I s’pose — ” The 
train whistled, and Jacob looked eagerly at the 
coaches as they drew to a standstill, and was still 
looking when a voice said close beside him: 

“Is this Mr. Foss?” 

“ To be sure — to be sure,” said Jacob, some- 
what taken by surprise. “ Be you the new 
teacher ? ” He held out his hand, which was 
“ gripped ” (so Jacob said to Martha afterward) 
by the tall, young fellow smiling down into his 
face. 

“ Yes, I am John Anstey, and one of your 


THE NEW BOARDER 


171 

family for the present, am I not? Here, what 
are you doing?” For Jacob was taking his 
valise. “ Please don’t begin this way with me, 
for you don’t know what you have undertaken. 
See there ! ” He pointed to the truck which the 
station-master was piling high with boxes and 
trunks and curious-shaped packages. 

“ Be them all yourn? ” 

“ Yes, and if you’ll excuse me for a few 
minutes. I’ll help the expressman wrestle with 
my baggage — if you’ll just take my coat. Thank 
you.” He was off with a quick, firm step, leaving 
Jacob staring helplessly at the soft fur-lined coat 
that filled his arms. 

“ Jerusalem! ” he muttered. I wonder ef he 
is er dude! This feels like it. Guess I’ll stow 
away my oxercoat under the seat. But how in 
thunder be 1 ter git all that truck up the hill! 
Eth can’t manage that to-night, ’n’ ter-morrer’s 
Sunday.” 

“ It’s good of you to come down this cold 
night to meet me, Mr. Foss; much pleasanter 
than driving up with a stranger. I’ve made 
arrangements with the station-master to have the 
things sent up to-night, but if you don’t mind 
I’ll take my brace of dogs up with me.” 

‘‘Your dogs?” Jacob failed to grasp the fact 
that this was the future district-school teacher. 

“ Yes, my two hunters. I couldn’t come up 


172 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


into this region without them; besides, they’re 
my friends,” he added, “ and glad enough to be 
let out of the baggage-car.” He whistled, and 
two magnificent Gordon setters bounded toward 
him from behind the baggage-truck. 

They’ve been well brought up,” he said, 
amused at Jacob’s surprised silence, and be- 
have better than most children. I’ll see that they 
don’t trouble Mrs. Foss. I didn’t bring my cob 
up, because I thought you might have one I 
could use for my own this winter.” 

For once in his life Jacob Foss had no ready 
answer. “ His cob ! ” he thought ; “ what’ll he 
spring on me next? Jerusalem! What’ll Marthy 
say? This beats the waif all holler.” But aloud 
he said : 

Wal, the more the merrier. I’ll bring round 
Ethan, ’n’ we’d better be gittin’ ’long home; it’s 
droppin’ fast.” By which Jacob meant that the 
mercury was looking downward toward zero. 

That word '' home ” made Anstey silent, and 
neither he nor Jacob spoke much on the long, 
cold drive over the rough, frozen ground. 

It was nearly eight o’clock when the wagon 
rattled into the yard, and the lights from the 
Roost shone out to welcome them. Martha ap- 
peared at the kitchen door with a shawl over her 
head. 

“ Is that you, father ? ” she called, cheerily, 
‘‘ ’n’ did you get him ? ” 


THE NEW BOARDER 


173 

Yes, marm, here we are, but we’re purty 
brittle; it’s goin’ ter be er stinger.” 

John Anstey has treasured that welcome in his 
heart and memory and will so long as memory 
lasts. 

As he stepped into the warm, lighted kitchen, 
Martha Foss put out both hands and took his, 
and looking up into his handsome, manly face 
with true motherly affection and womanly ad- 
miration for such manhood (he was just the 
age her boy would have been), said simply, ** I’m 
glad you got home before it snowed,” and her 
blue eyes said the rest. 

John wrote his mother afterward, it was all 
he could do to resist taking the little bunch of a 
woman in his arms and giving her a big kiss. 
But what he did say, was: 

I wish my mother could hear you say that, 
Mrs. Foss; she would feel happier to-night, and 
I should feel happier if she did.” 

Martha Foss knew then that grown-up men 
could feel as homesick sometimes as little boys. 

Come right into your rooms,” she said, bus- 
tling about with a candle in one hand and a tin 
pitcher of hot water in the other. “ I wish they 
looked more like home, but you know what you 
wrote,” she said, apologetically. 

Yes, I know.” He smiled, and determined to 
put on a good face, no matter what he might see. 


174 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


They stepped across the cold passage, and 
Martha opened the best room door. It was ablaze 
with light. The great fireplace was heaped with 
hickory and pine, and the huge backlog glowed 
like a small smelting furnace. 

An old-fashioned crane swung above the fire, 
and on it hung a little, old, black kettle that was 
sending forth a cloud of steam and singing 
merrily. The pine table stood in the middle of 
the bare floor, and on it was a large, round 
wooden chopping-tray, filled with beautiful, 
growing sword-ferns. 

In the small bedroom, which John examined 
with all the eager delight of a boy, there was 
a fireplace, likewise crackling a warm welcome. 
On one side, heaped high with a mountainous 
featherbed, stood a huge four-post bedstead with 
a warm blue and white woollen coverlet. A 
small wash-stand and an old splint-bottom rock- 
ing-chair with a patchwork cushion completed 
the furnishings of this room. 

John Anstey returned to the best room with 
a sense of possession. 

There is no apology needed for this room, 
Mrs. Foss,” he said, enthusiastically. ‘‘ It is 
what I dreamed of when a boy, but never have 
seen. Look at these closets! Just the thing for 
my pipes ! ” He opened two wall-closets high 
up on each side of the fireplace, and on a level 


THE NEW BOARDER 


175 


with the narrow mantel. “ Where does this 
lead to?” he inquired, opening a narrow deal 
door in the wall at the back of the passage. 
‘‘And what is this hole for? A cat-hole?” 

He laughed with delight. 

Martha explained that when the house, which 
was very old, had been altered, this door, which 
led to the garret, was left in the best room. 

“ So you have a real garret? Fve read about 
them, as a boy, in New England story-books — 
but Fve never seen one that looked as they 
sounded. Perhaps it was because I was a boy. 
Where did you get these ferns ? ” He thought at 
once how the young sister’s picture in the violet 
frame should stand there beneath their delicate 
fronds. 

“ I forgot to tell you,” said Martha, with a 
bright smile. “ Nancy Liscom filled this bowl 
for you, and said she would leave it for a greeting 
for the new teacher.” 

Anstey was more touched than he cared to 
confess. He could not speak, for he did not 
know how much Martha Foss knew or did not 
know. He was silent, while Martha went on 
volubly : 

“ She’s the best scholar ’round here — Squire 
Liscom’s daughter. Poor child, she hain’t no 
father nor mother, ’n’ my heart goes out ter her, 
for she’s a lonely little soul, ’n’ doesn’t know what 


1/6 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


she needs, ’n’ that’s father ’n’ mother love. Why, 
there’s Jacob callin’, ’n’ me stannin’ here talkin’ 
..when you oughter be hevin’ your supper. It’s 
most bedtime now.” Martha hurried away. 

John heard a low whine at the door, and open- 
ing it, in bounded the two setters, leaping upon 
him and licking his hands, wild with the joy of 
having found him. 

‘‘ Well, old fellow,” he said, as Siegfried rose 
on his hind legs, and laid his fore paws lovingly 
on his master’s shoulder, ‘‘ we might be in a 
worse place. Here, give Frey a a chance.” 

The beautiful creature clasped his arm with 
her fore paws and looked up devotedly into 
her master’s face. He left them both stretched 
before the fire when he heard Mrs. Foss call him 
across the passage : 

“ Come ter your supper.” 

John Anstey sat down at the round table in 
the long, low kitchen that was Martha’s pride, 
and enjoyed a supper of cold roast chicken and 
mealy baked potatoes, sweet pickles, delicious 
coffee, baked sweet apples with Jersey cream, 
clotted and rich, and fresh gingerbread — and all 
the time felt as if he were eating in a story-book. 

The end of the kitchen toward the passage was 
the general sitting-room. A long, comfortable 
settle with blue and white patchwork cushions 
stretched along the wall for some eight feet. 


THE NEW BOA ED EE 


177 


Jacob’s father’s armchair, Martha’s low, splint- 
bottomed, grass-green rocker, and two straw ^ 
chairs, brightened with cushions of turkey-red 
cotton, filled that end. 

The middle of the room was occupied by the 
round table, four quaint kitchen chairs, and the 
china cupboard, under which Martha kept her 
loaf sugar, jellies, and tea. The stove, the 
dresser well set out with everything needful, in- 
cluding parts of old blue and brown sets that had 
belonged to Martha’s grandmother, dry sink, 
water-butt, and kneading-table furnished the part 
next the woodshed. 

A large pantry, in reality a small room, opened 
from the back wall by the kitchen stove, on the 
other side of which was Miffins’s room, a twin to 
the pantry. 

A door opened directly from the back porch 
into the sitting-room end, and one at the kitchen 
end into the wood-shed. Five sunny windows, 
east and south, were provided with shelves and 
brackets for Martha’s plants, which seemed to fill 
all the room with greenery : begonias, wax-plants, 
hardy geraniums, oxalis, fuchsias. A small door 
at the passage end led up to the “ south chamber,” 
where Jacob and Martha slept warm and un- 
daunted by all below-zero weather, fortified by 
their feather bed and the kitchen stove-pipe that 
ran through the room from floor to ceiling. 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


178 

It was a feast for John Anstey’s city-bred eyes. 
Here there was no playing at simplicity as in 
an Adirondack camp, but it was the real, New 
England home article, genuine and guaranteed. 

As he sat down with Jacob and Martha, Jacob 
said : 

‘‘ Where’s thet boy? ” 

“ He went out ter look fer Fidget, father ; he’ll 
be in in er minute.” 

‘‘ Wal, I ain’t er goin’ ter say grace till he 
comes — not ter-night,” said Jacob, emphatic- 
ally, with a kindly look at his guest. 

In a moment John heard the stump, stump of 
a crutch, and Miffins entered with the puppy 
under one arm ; his rough woollen cap was drawn 
over his forehead and ears, and but little of his 
face showed. But John caught the keen “ sizing- 
up ” look that Miffins, apparently indifferent, 
fixed on him, and laughing inwardly, he thought, 
“ I’ve met a good many of your kind before.” 

Come, sonny, set up ; vittles is coolin’ 
fast. This is yer new teacher, Mr. John Anstey, 
’n’ our new boarder. This yere is our boy, 
Miffins.” 

John rose and extended his hand as man 
to man. Miffins looked up at the tall, athletic 
figure, and into the kindly, determined brown 
eyes. Then he looked at the hand that was held 
out to him, shapely and white and strong like 


THE NEW BOARDER 


179 


the surgeon’s at Bellevue. He put his own small, 
chapped one into it, and it was lost in a grasp 
that for no known reason caused one of those 
troublesome lumps to rise in the boy’s throat. 

Then and there, in that hand-clasp, John 
Anstey won the entire allegiance of a boy’s heart. 
Not a bad heart, either, at bottom, for all appear- 
ances were against it, but a heart that was not 
yet aroused to beat for what was true and manly 
and generous ; and no wonder, with the up-bring- 
ing of New York streets and the loveless life of 
a “ waif,” knowing neither father nor mother, 
nor any earthly tie. God help us, there be many 
such! 

Jacob’s grace was always the same: 

“We thank thee. Lord, fer this meal of vittles, 
’n’ may the next one find us jest ez thankful. 
Amen.” 

“ I wish ter-morrer warn’t Sunday jest fer 
once,” said Martha, as she cleared the table, 
while Miffins put a large checked gingham apron 
of Martha’s around his neck and prepared to 
wash the dishes, with a strange feeling of con- 
tentment that he was in the same room with the 
new teacher. 

“Why, Mrs. Foss?” asked John. 

“ Coz all that truck of yours is coming right 
up the hill this very minute, so Jacob says, ’n’ 
I’d like ter git things settled for you by ter- 


i8o 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


morrer. ’T would seem more homelike for Sun- 
day; it’s a dretful lonesome day away from your 
home.” 

“ I’ll settle to-night, Mrs. Foss, if you’ll lend 
me a hammer, screw-driver, and a few nails, and 
a broom. Miffins can help me, can’t you, even if 
it does keep you up a bit late ? ” 

Miffins looked up from the dish-pan with a 
pleased smile for answer. He would see all the 
things then, and handle them, too! 

No sooner were the dishes finished than a great 
commotion in the yard announced the arrival of 
“ the truck.” Jacob went out with the lantern, 
and Martha threw her blanket shawl over her 
head, that she might have the first peep. 

She laughed to herself as box after box, chest 
after chest, was carried into the best room through 
the front door and passage. Two trunks and 
some large, curious-looking packages followed. 

’N’ I thought he was poor I ” she thought, and 
laughed again. 

The dogs were put out of the way in the bed- 
room, where Martha had set a fine supper for 
them unbeknown to John, and their master and 
Miffins went to work. 

‘‘ Don’t sit up, Mrs. Foss, for us, please. I’ll 
do all the hammering first, so you won’t be kept 
awake. I’m afraid it will be rather late before 
we get through.” 


THE NEW BOARDER 


i8i 


Miffins took note of that “ we.” 

Martha laughed again. “ I couldn’t go ter 
sleep if I went to bed. I’m longin’ ter know how 
that bare room’ll look with all those things in 
it, ’n’ I’m goin’ ter set up till I see ! ” 

It was John’s turn to laugh. “ I’ll tell you 
what, Mrs. Foss, we’ll send Mr. Foss off to his 
room, and you can sit up till I call you in to 
inspect.” 

“ No, yer don’t,” said Jacob, who had just 
come in and closed the front door. “ Ef Marthy 
sets up. I’m er goin’ ter, ’n’ I’ll clear up ez fast 
ez yer can make litter, ’n’ then by Sunday, we’ll 
be ready to settle down. Come, Marthy, our 
room’s better’n our comp’ny just now,” and he 
drew her reluctantly into the kitchen and shut 
the door. 

‘‘ Now, Miffins, we’ll get down to work. I’ll 
open these boxes; you unpack, and I’ll dump all 
the lumber and burlap into the passage. That’ll 
clear out the room best.” They set to work with 
a will. 

In less than an hour, John stepped into the 
kitchen. 

“ Now, Mr. Foss, if I may trouble you to lend 
a hand, we’ll get this largest packing-box into 
the shed. Then if you will do me the honor 
to step into my best room, I shall be pleased to 
play host as well as you.” 


i 82 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


As Martha crossed the passage with Jacob be- 
hind her, she paused on the threshold of the “ best 
room,’’ speechless with admiration. 

“ Oh, father ! ” was all she could say at first, 
and laid her hand eloquently upon his arm. 

“ Allow me, Mrs. Foss,” said John, and offer- 
ing his arm, which Martha took as if it were 
the most natural thing in the world to be escorted 
by a young and handsome man, he led her to a 
large, low bamboo chair, cushioned with olive 
green corduroy, and placed her in it. 

Oh, father ! ” said Martha again, with a sigh 
of perfect contentment. 

“ Wal, marm, yer seem ter hev found yer 
right place at last ! This does beat all ! ” he ex- 
claimed, stepping gingerly about with his great 
cowhide boots, and avoiding the rugs. 

Martha could only sigh. It was beyond any- 
thing she had ever imagined, and it was the Roost 
that held all this supreme satisfaction. 

At the four windows of the great square room 
hung the warm red curtains from John’s Fifth 
Avenue den. On the floor lay the six-inch deep 
fur rugs of Alaskan bear, of blue and silver fox. 
The mysterious chests were portable bookcases, 
and there they stood between the windows and 
at each side of the fireplace with their brave 
showing of names that had been John Anstey’s 
companions for years. 


THE NEW BOARDER 


183 


A cot, well-upholstered with seat and cush- 
ions, and covered with washable chintz, sage 
green, with sprays of old-fashioned single red 
pinks scattered here and there over it, filled the 
wall next the passage. John’s leather smoker and 
two bamboo chairs with the green corduroy 
cushions completed the furnishings. 

On the wall, over the book-shelves, hung the 
gun-racks ; over the mantel a long pipe-rack. 
The other spaces were filled with a large etching 
of Mount Saint Michael, a photograph of that 
wonderful head of Raphael’s only divine child, 
a water-color sketch of some Venetian fishing- 
boats, a framed photograph of Phillips Brooks, 
a cast of Lincoln’s head, life-size, a large photo- 
graph of the Yale campus and chapel, a snap-shot 
of the last rush of that famous Yale foot-ball 
team of which John had been half-back. 

The ample pine table, fully five feet by four, 
was piled with pamphlets and writing-materials. 

On one end stood the student-lamp, on the 
other the wooden bowl of ferns, and beneath the 
delicate fronds his young sister’s exquisite face 
looked out from its velvet frame. 

Is it to be wondered at that Martha Foss folded 
her busy hands, labor-hardened, so contentedly 
in her lap, and sighed again, ‘‘ Oh, father ! ” 

Long after his guests were in bed, John Anstey 
sat in the firelight with his head in his hands, not 


184 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


in despair, as he had sat a few nights before in 
his den in the great city, with the life of which 
he felt so closely identified, but in utter thank- 
fulness that the stern battle for life which he 
was about to wage, could still be fought in the 
ranks — shoulder to shoulder with his fellow 
men. 

The old eight-day clock in the passage struck 
twelve. John drew out his watch mechanically 
and compared the time. Only a minute’s differ- 
ence. A slight thing — but it suggested pleasant 
thoughts, and with that he went, or rather, as he 
wrote his mother afterward, “ dove into the 
feather bed.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

The Vigilance Committee 


' I ^HE school did not begin until the Monday 
after Thanksgiving, and Anstey had ample 
time and opportunity to hear from Martha the 
narrative of Nancy’s escapade, and from Jacob 
a detailed relation of the progress of the Vigi- 
lance Committee, and the reasons for its existence. 

‘‘ But the queer part of it is,” said Martha 
one day at dinner, “ that there ain’t a soul in 
this village ’n’ Barnet that knows where she went 
or who she saw or what she did, ’n’ nobody 
dassen’t say a word to her about it. She holds 
her head higher’n ever, sence she come back. 
Queer she ain’t been here ’fore now. She was 
mighty anxious ter get them ferns over in 
time.” 

‘‘ I thought perhaps she would be one of the 
scholars, and I could thank her for them next 
Monday,” said John. 

“ Well, mebbe she will, if she gets acquainted 
with you. I guess you could manage her. Just 
185 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


1 86 

let her see them books ’n’ she won’t feel like 
makin’ fun, as she used to, of every new teacher.” 

Are you going to school this term, Miffins? ” 

For answer, Miffins looked at Jacob Foss. 

“ Yer look ez ef yer wanted to jine the rest, 
sonny ? ” 

“ I’d like to, but I don’t see how I can,” said 
Miffins, hesitatingly. 

“ What’s ter hinder? ” 

Miffins looked down in his plate and fingered 
his crutch. 

John answered for him. 

Perhaps he is wondering how he can get 
there, Mr. Foss; I think I can make some ar- 
rangement if it should not be convenient for 
you to take him; I shall walk generally.” 

Ef the boy wants ter go, he’s goin’. Lamin’ 
don’t hurt nobody if it’s lamed right. I can 
fix things so he can go regular. But yer must 
do us proud, sonny.” 

Miffins had nothing to say. The Vigilance 
Committee was more in his thoughts than he 
would have been willing to confess, and, since 
that night when Nance disappeared, Jacob’s shot- 
gun had been a constant reminder of what might 
be if ever he was found out. Moreover, as he 
fell asleep the last few nights, he had curious 
feelings about Seth in the cider-mill. 

So it was decided that Miffins was to attend 


VIGILANCE COMMITTEE 


187 


school during the winter term, if his strength was 
sufficient. This was on Tuesday, but between 
Tuesday and Monday the unexpected may happen. 

As Jacob rose from the table, there was an 
unwonted commotion in the yard. He went to 
the window and looked out. Then he laughed 
aloud. 

Jest come here, Mr. Anstey, see the fun.’' 
John went to the window. A light snow was 
falling, and the ground was covered. Round 
and round in the middle of the yard flew 
Siegfried and Freya and Fidget. Over and over 
they rolled, heads and tails in seemingly inextri- 
cable confusion. Then Siegfried and Freya set 
their teeth in a patch of something that showed 
a dull yellowish white against the snow, and 
pulled and pulled in true “ tug-of-war ” style. 
Fidget meanwhile tearing madly around the con- 
testants, yelping, whining, snapping, in vain 
endeavor to get a hold, too. 

What’s thet they’ve got?” said Jacob, 
’tain’t one er Marthy’s dish-rags, is it ? — nor 
a meal-bag,” he added, stepping to the door. 

Jerusalem! ” he shouted, '‘it’s Reuben Lis- 
com’s pelt. Come on, Mr. Anstey! Come on, 
sonny ! ” he cried, forgetting Miffins’s infirmity, 
“ we’ve got track of them rascals now ! ” And 
seizing his hat and overcoat he rushed from the 
house, followed by John, who looked just 


i88 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


once at Miffins as he passed him. Miffins caught 
the look and knew that somehow Anstey 
knew — : and the knowledge made him miserable. 

John called off the dogs, and sure enough what 
the dogs had left, after worrying the pelt into 
small pieces, was a tattered haunch-piece and a 
tail ; on the under side in red letters was R. L.’' 

‘‘ Guess we’ll organize ernother Vigilance 
Committee, Mr. Anstey, ’n’ ferret out this thievin’ 
business.” 

“ I’ll help you all I can, Mr. Foss ; shall I set 
the dogs on the scent ? ” 

‘‘ Wal, thet would be ’n idee ; Fidget here 
hain’t no responsibility, ’n’ wouldn’t know his 
own tracks from a woodchuck’s. But them crit- 
ters o’ yourn air born trackers. We’ll foller on.” 

John called the dogs and gave them the scent, 
and in a few minutes they were loping along, 
noses almost in the snow, and following faint 
little tracks that were made by Fidget, the indomi- 
table, who, at the risk of losing his wind, had 
tugged the whole pelt up from the cave, a dis- 
tance of two and a half miles! But he had 
not used the highroad. Consequently Jacob and 
John took a fine cross-country run on their own 
account and found themselves after a tough hour’s 
tramping on the top of the bank. 

‘‘Wal — I vum!” said Jacob, as he leaned 
nearly breathless against the trunk of the beech. 
“ This beats me.” 


VIGILANCE COMMITTEE 


189 


Don’t say that yet, Mr. Foss, we’ve some 
sharp work before us yet. Look at the dogs ! ” 

Siegfried was going back on his tracks, Freya 
was whining a little anxiously as if she had lost 
a yard or two. They sought this way and that. 
Suddenly Fidget gambolled into view over the 
brow of the hill, and, after stopping short for a 
moment to make sure it was his “ halloo,” dashed 
down the slope with such reckless impetus that 
he went right over the bank, and rolled over and 
over until he landed on the ledge twenty feet 
below. 

John laughed aloud. It’s Fidget that’ll be 
in at the finish, Mr. Foss. See! He’s given 
my dogs points already.” 

And sure enough, Siegfried and Freya were 
already slipping, sliding, nosing their way down 
the precipitous bank. 

Where they can go, I can follow, Mr. Foss, 
but perhaps you had better stay here.” 

“ Not much,” said Jacob, stoutly. '' I’m er 
goin’ ter see this thing through. Look er here ! ” 
He fairly shouted in his excitement. Coiled on 
the other side of the huge trunk lay the forty feet 
of Manila rope, one end attached to the pulley 
on the projecting bank. 

“ This grows interesting,” said John. “ Here, 
take hold of the rope, Mr. Foss, and that will 
give you a purchase on this steep decline.” 


190 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Thet’s ernother idee,” said Jacob, and fol- 
lowing John, he worked his way down, holding 
tightly by the rope. When he felt the firm ledge 
beneath his feet, he straightened himself and 
looked about him. 

Wal, I’ve lived in this township ever sence I 
wuz born, ’n’ I never knew we had a wilderness 
like this right at our door.” 

Well might he say wilderness.” John Anstey 
stood out upon the extreme edge of the ledge, 
silent in the presence of such grandeur. Three 
hundred feet below him, as a plummet drops, be- 
neath a stretch of black pines, the Branch roared 
over Beaver Dam. Across the narrow valley, just 
dimmed with the light falling snow, the giants 
of the Green Mountain range towered, vast, un- 
certain of outline, overpowering in their half- 
shrouded blackness. East and west beneath him 
as far as he could see, hilltops, densely wooded, 
overlapped one another. Turning, he saw be- 
hind him a mass of rock covered with beech, 
hemlock, and spruce. Level with the ledge on 
which he stood was an opening some six feet 
wide by four high. 

A smothered exclamation issued from the cave, 
— then Jacob backed out on his hands and knees, 
pulling the buffalo-robe after him. 

This beats all ! ” he cried, as he cleared his 
head and shoulders of corn-husks and the knees 



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VIGILANCE COMMITTEE 


191 

of his trousers of gravel. “ I don’t believe thet 
Seth did steal that robe no more’n I did. They’re 
old ban’s at it thet contrived this infernal hole. 
See here ! ” 

He pulled out the clothes-basket, which was 
rigged with the halters and the hold-back in such 
a way as to steady the load, as it was hoisted 
to the top of the bank, however heavy it might be. 

“ Can you identify these things ? ” asked John. 
“If you can, we can hoist them up to the bank 
now and drive down for them with the wagon. 
I suppose the sooner the men get what has been 
taken, the better the chances to find out the thief ; 
although there has been more than one here,” he 
said, as he crawled into the cave. 

“ How can yer tell ? ” 

“ Here’s an apple with the marks of one set 
of teeth, and here’s a piece of cheese near the rind 
with the impress of another set,” laughed John, 
“ and here is the half of a cigarette with one end 
chewed, which shows the smoker was new to 
his business, and here’s another scrap of one 
smoked to the last whiff by an old hand.” 

“ Wal, yer know suthin’ ’sides book-larnin’ ! ” 
said Jacob, admiringly. “ What more can yer 
find out ? ” 

“ Here’s the skin of a fox that has been shot 
with a rifle, and the same calibre ball as an old 
one I had as a boy, and here ” — he threw out 


192 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


the skins behind him as he spoke, is another that 
has been peppered with buckshot. It’s a burning 
shame to use such heavy shot on a little fellow 
such as this must have been. Fd like to catch 
a man doing it ! ” he exclaimed. 

One after another, he drew, or threw out, the 
furnishings of the cave, meal-chest, hatchet, skins, 
beer-bottles, cigar-stumps, and sheep-pelt. Jacob 
was dumb with amazement. He had stumbled 
over the clay hearth, and brushing away the snow 
saw the charred bits of wood still on it. Then 
he found his tongue. 

“ Guess ’twas er goin’ ter be ’n all winter’s 
job with ’em,” he remarked^ as he loaded the 
clothes-basket preparatory to hoisting his spoils 
to the bank, “ but it ’pears they got sick of it — ■ 
’n’ I should er thought they might er,” he chuck- 
led. Take er stinging night now, sech ez we 
had las’ night, in thet inside hole — ugh ! it 
makes me shiver jest ter think on’t.” 

John climbed the bank and swung in the basket 
from the improvised crane, then let down the 
rope, for Jacob to pull himself up by. 

“ Can’t I help you, Mr. Foss ? ” he called down 
to him. 

“ No, gimme time, ’n’ I’ll fetch it,” said Jacob, 
puffing heavily, “but, durn me, ef I want ter 
be a Vigilance Committee again.” 

They turned homeward in the quickly failing 


VIGILANCE COMMITTEE 


193 

light, the three dogs, off duty, bounding with 
joy and yelping excitedly. 

Marthy, Marthy!” Jacob shouted, as he 
neared the house. Martha appeared at the door, 
but no Miffins. 

'' Why, father, what ails you ? er hollerin’ ez 
if — ” But Jacob interrupted her : 

We’ve got ’em, marm!” 

‘‘ Got who ? ” said Martha, bewildered. 

“ Them rascals ez hez been settin’ all us old 
fellers by the ears. Here’s Reuben’s other pelt ! ” 

Do tell ! ” said Martha. 

Miffins, listening from the wood-shed, heard 
Jacob’s exultant words, and with a queer, sinking 
feeling in the pit of his stomach, hitched away 
to the barn to milk before dark. 

At supper, and afterward, Jacob was full of 
his discovery, and determined to drive, down that 
very evening to the village to tell Lawyer Slocum 
and take back Deacon Simms’s buffalo-robe. 

‘‘ Coz it goes agin me,” he said, “ ter hev thet 
poor feller shut up in thet cider-mill these cold 
nights. I reckon the deacon’s purty hard on 
him. Besides, I want ter hear how Billy is.” 

Well, I would go,” said Martha, sympathet- 
ically. And Jacob went. 

Come into my room after your work is done, 
Miffins. I want to ask about the boys that you 
know are coming to school this term. Perhaps 


194 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


I can tell you about some of the boys you knew 
in the city.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Miffins; he had learned that 
from John during the three days he had been in 
the house with him; for that gentleman never 
addressed Jacob but as “ Mr. Foss ” or “ sir.” 

“ Here, make yourself comfortable, Miffins.” 
He drew one of the low bamboo chairs up before 
the fire, and reached for his pipe in the rack 
above. 

“ The doctor allows me one a day, that is all.” 
He smiled. “ I call that hard lines, don’t you, 
Miffins?” 

Miffins wanted to talk, but he didn’t know how 
to begin with this man whom he adored with all 
his boy’s heart; but he ventured with a look 
of admiration at the tall, straight form ; 

“ Yer don’t look ez if yer needed er doctor.” 

“ I don’t, do I ? ” laughed John. “ But that’s 
just where appearances are most deceitful. 
Now, I’m here, Miffins, and I don’t mind telling 
you, for I know you won’t peach to any one in 
the village — I’ve come up here to fight.” 

“To fight?” echoed Miffins. 

“ Yes, to fight the kind of a battle that a good 
many men have to fight some time or other, 
but not often at my age. Did you ever see a prize- 
fight?” 

“ Yes — a bully one,” said Miffins. “ But I 
don’t know what yer mean.” 


VIGILANCE COMMITTEE 


195 


“ I know you don’t; but if I tell you I’m at 
present an underweight champion with the odds 
against me, and liable to be knocked out at the 
fifth round for good and all, you’ll understand, 
won’t you ? ” 

Yer don’t mean,” said Miffins, his voice rising 
shrill and high in his excitement — yer don’t 
mean yer goin’ ter die I ” 

“ Not if I can help it,” replied John Anstey, 
quietly — “ and that’s my fight and why I’m 
here. Won’t you have a cigarette ? ” 

Miffins took it mechanically, and John watched 
him closely. 

Mind you, I don’t offer that to boys as a 
rule — but you’ve smoked many a one on the 
curbstone before now — and I want company 
just for to-night.” 

He knelt by the fire, and taking a coal from it 
with the tongs, lighted his pipe, and sat down 
in the other low chair opposite Miffins. 

‘‘ How long were you in Bellevue, Miffins ? ” 

Five months — but ” — a sudden lump in 
Miffins’s throat sent the smoke the wrong way 
and set him to coughing — ‘‘ but I never thought 
er dyin’.” 

“ No, of course, — they knew you wouldn’t. 
You see that’s the difference between us : you 
have every prospect of living to a good old age, 
although you came out pretty well handicapped 


196 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


as to legs at first, while I haven’t any prospect 
of a long life, and am as well supplied with legs 
and arms as a man need be to fight his way 
through. It’s queer how things turn out that 
way. There’s Spikes, now — ” 

“ Spikes ! ” interrupted Miffins, in great excite- 
ment. “ D’yer know Spikes? ” 

Why, yes, do you ? ” 

Course — he wuz my pal for one winter. 
Where’d yer know Spikes ? ” 

“ In New York. He’s round again now, but 
he’s given up the papers.” 

‘‘ Wot’s he doin’ ? ” 

Well, he’s just now in an office down-town 
with a friend of mine.” 

“ In er office! ” Miffins could only echo John’s 
words in his amazement. 

“ Yes, you know he lost a leg? ” 

‘‘ I know,” said Miffins, nodding. 

“ I saw him in Bellevue. I’d known him be- 
fore — and found he had a wonderful mind for 
figures, and when he came out, he went into 
my friend’s office as accountant.” 

“Wot does he get?” was Miffins’s practical 
question. 

John smiled. He knew within a dollar what 
the newsboys made a month, so was prepared for 
Miffins’s surprise. 

“ Thirty dollars a month the first year,” 


VIGILANCE COMMITTEE 


197 


“ Thirty dollars ! ” Miffins could say no more. 

“Have another cigarette? You’ve smoked 
yours clean.” He drew out an envelope from his 
coat pocket, and took out very carefully the bit 
of a cigarette end he had found in the cave. 

“ Here’s what I found to-day in the cave,” he 
said, unconcernedly. “ Seeing you smoke yours 
made me think of this.” He compared the two, 
and then fixed his dark eyes kindly and inquir- 
ingly on Miffins. 

The boy knew he was caught. Anstey 
turned away, knocked his pipe against the and- 
iron, laid it in the rack, and with his hands 
behind him, walked to the window, and looked 
out. Then he came back and stood in front of 
the boy, who shifted uneasily in his chair. 

“ Look here, Miffins ” — but Miffins could not 
look just then; so John went on. “As I have 
told you, I have come up here to fight for my life, 
and when I came into the house that first night, 
I was glad and thankful to find you here; for 
I know a lot of boys in New York, and, I con- 
fess, it would have seemed pretty dreary without 
a single boy in sight — I’m so used to them. 
You see, I had heard of you before ” — Miffins 
looked up quickly — “ yes,” John Anstey nodded, 
“from Nancy Liscom; I know all about that 
affair, and if I hadn’t known what your life had 
been, — because I know so many boys’ lives just 


198 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


like yours, — I would have come up here and 
made you see some things in their right light. 
But knowing the life you boys lead, I did not 
blame you any more than Nancy did. But since 
I have been in this home, and seen the love these 
kindly people have for you, and the way they trust 
you and treat you, it’s gone against me to sleep 
a night in the house with a boy that carries two 
faces like yours! Now if you have any manli- 
ness about you, — and you’re different from 
every other boy I have ever known if you can’t 
show up somehow as a man, — you’ll make it 
straight with Mr. and Mrs. Foss and the other 
boys and their parents and the Vigilance Com- 
mittee,” — Anstey was unsparing now, for 
he was roused, — “ and show people that you 
haven’t come up here to accept favors that you 
couldn’t get anywhere else, — crippled as you 
are,” — Anstey knew what he was saying, 
— “ and in return lead three boys into ways that 
will perhaps ruin them for life — perhaps take 
them out of life, for I hear Billy Slocum is very 
sick these last three days.” 

Miffins looked up half-defiantly. “ I can’t 
peach,” he said. 

That’s all nonsense,” said John Anstey. ‘‘ It’s 
the other boys that are so honorable they won’t 
peach on you. You got them into this scrape, 
and it is for you to help them out — and the 


VIGILANCE COMMITTEE 


199 


only way out is to tell on yourself. I don’t see 
how you can sleep nights, knowing Seth is locked 
up in that cider-mill.” 

^‘What’ll Mr. Foss say?” 

I don’t know that he will say anything — but 
it wouldn’t surprise me if he gave you a sound 
thrashing. If he does, take it like a man, know- 
ing you deserve it.” 

Now Miffins had been braving it out as well as 
he could — but there was a limit to his power 
in this direction. He had a feeling he must get 
away from those dark eyes that never left his 
face ; he rose suddenly — missed his crutch, and 
fell full length on the floor with his hurt leg 
nearly doubled under him. A groan of anguish 
— Anstey’s arm was around him in a mo- 
ment, and Miffins felt himself lifted in those 
strong arms, and then — well, between Tuesday 
noon and Tuesday night the unexpected can 
happen ; our waif turned his face into the hollow 
of John Anstey’s neck and sobbed as if his heart 
would break. 

And John sat down on the cot with the boy 
still in his arms, and let him cry till his collar 
was wet through and the lapel of his shooting- 
jacket damp and wrinkled. 

What they said to each other after that is no 
concern of ’any one’s. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The Verdict of the Jury 

J ACOB FOSS and John Anstey had a long talk 
on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. 

‘‘ I don’t want ter be too hard on him,” Jacob 
concluded, “ but he’s lied ’n’ deceived ’n’ ez good, 
or worse’n stole, fer he put them boys up ter it; 
he’s helped git ez nice a gal, ef she wuz brought 
up right, ez ther is in the State ’bout ez nigh 
into a mean scrape ez he can, ’n’ he’s carried two 
faces, ’n’ he’s disgraced my good name with my 
neighbors, ’n’ I ain’t a-goin’ ter let him off easy. 
No, sir! ” said Jacob, bringing down his fist on 
the pine table, — for they were in John’s room, — 
Cripple or no cripple, slummy or Prince er 
Wales, it don’t matter when it comes to makin’ 
er man, ’n’ he’s got ter face the music ’n’ make 
all square with my townsfolks fust — ’n’ then 
he’ll be on the right road ter work out his own 
salvation.” 

‘‘ You’re right, Mr. Foss,” replied Anstey. 
Now, how shall he set about it?” 


200 


VERDICT OF THE JURY 


201 


“ Wal, ter-morrer’s Thanksgivin’, ’n’ I want 
ter eat my turkey in peace ’n’ with a good con- 
science, so ril hitch up this arternoon ’n’ we’ll 
take the boy ’long with us, ’n’ I’ll git the men ez 
wuz robbed ’n’ the boys ’n’ their fathers ter- 
gether in Lawyer Slocum’s office, ’n’ we’ll hev 
the verdict er the jury, ’n’ what they say the 
boy’s got ter stan’ by.” 

“ A good idea, Mr. Foss. You might see Mif- 
fins, now. You know,” and John smiled, “ he 
does not feel any too comfortable about the buck- 
shot.” 

Jacob smiled, too. ‘‘ Ter think it wuz thet half 
er boy I wuz er threatenin’, ’n’ never knew it ! ” 
Unfortunately, Jacob spoke as he crossed the 
passage, and Miffins in the kitchen heard him — 
half a boy! ” The words rang in the boy’s ears 
— “ half a boy.” He was stumping out of the 
room as Jacob entered. The man looked after 
him, and his face worked strangely. My boy 
might er ben like thetj he was thinking, but 
aloud he said, following Miffins and laying a 
hand on his shoulder to hold him back, “ I 
wouldn’t er thought it of yer, sonny. Yer’ll go 
down with me ’n’ Mr. Anstey this arternoon 
’n’ make it up ez well ez yer can ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Miffins, not daring to look 
around. And not another word did Jacob say. 
Had he forgotten the ‘‘ buckshot ” threat, Mif- 
fins wondered ? 


202 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Half a hoyl The words still rang in his 
ear as he went out to the barn. He felt ashamed 
to meet Jacob’s eye, but he was lighter-hearted 
than he had been since Billy Slocum was taken 
ill and Seth locked up in the cider-mill. 

“ I’ll make him take that back some day,” said 
Miffins to himself, as he busied himself with the 
harness, even if I am a cripple an’ — an’ a 
thief ! The old duffer’s give me a chance, an’ I’ll 
take it.” And that was the last time that Mif- 
fms ever referred to Jacob Foss as the old 
duffer.” 

In the small office were assembled Lawyer Slo- 
cum and Parson Leonard and Farmer Babcock 
and Joe and Deacon Simms and the constable and 
Barzy and Seth and Harry and Jim and Reuben 
Liscom and John Anstey. Jacob came in with 
Miffins; they had been waiting at the post-office 
till the jury had met. They took their seats on 
two stools. 

Jacob’s lips were drawn into a set, thin line. 
He had a most unpleasant duty to perform, and 
his throat grew dry and his voice husky as he 
spoke, for Lawyer Slocum had said, “ The case 
is opened. Mr. Foss, have you anything to say ? ” 

Jacob cleared his throat. Just then the office 
door flew open, and in walked Nance. She went 
straight to her uncle, and said : 

Uncle Reuben, I want to stay here with you. 


203 


VERDICT OF THE JURY 

it’s my place.” And down she sat at her uncle’s 
side, and there was neither man nor boy but 
wanted her to stay. She was as pretty as a 
picture. She wore a light-blue flannel hood 
which tied close under her chin. Her eyes were 
dark with excitement and her cheeks snow-red 
with rapid walking, and her voice sounded so 
true, so decided, yet so sweet, that Miffins took 
courage. So John Anstey saw her — she never 
looked once at him — for the first time since his 
arrival. 

Jacob cleared his throat again of the irritating 
cobweb that would spin itself in spite of him. 

“ I hain’t got much ter say, neighbors ; it’s 
er new thing fer Jacob Foss ter hev ter apologize 
fer deviltry, ’n’ fer any one ez is up ter it thet 
lives under his roof. I feel ez ef my good name 
hed been teched, when anything o’ yourn hez 
been teched, ’n’ I want ter say right here thet I 
acknowledge it wuz ’n experiment er takin’ any- 
body from thet great Babel ’thout knowin’ any- 
thin’ ’bout ’em; but I hedn’t the least idee thet 
the experiment would tech yer lives er yer 
fortunes. I’ve brought the boy down here ter 
speak fer himself, ’n’ we’ve agreed ter stan’ by 
the verdict of the jury.” 

Jacob sat down and wiped the perspiration 
from his forehead, exactly as if he had been the 
culprit. 


204 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Miffins stood up and looked at Anstey, 
and Anstey looked at him. That look so kindly 
determined, yet loving and pitiful, put strength 
into his limbs and words upon his tongue. 

“ I would like to ask the defendant a few ques- 
tions first,” said Lawyer Slocum. 

“ All right, squire,” said Jacob. 

“ What is your name? ” 

“ Miffins.” 

“ Your other name? ” 

“ That’s all.” 

“ Where were you born? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ No father, no mother living? ” 

“ Not that I knows of.” 

“You came from New York?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Where did you live when there ? ” 

Miffins was nonplussed and looked appealingly 
at Anstey. But the latter appeared to be deep 
in thought. 

“ Mostly nowheres.” 

“ I don’t understand.” 

“ I lived round ; slept with my pal in the 
lodgin’s when we had the cash, an’ when we 
didn’t, lay round in the packin’-boxes in the 
alleys.” 

“What did you do for a living?” 

“ Sold papers.” 


205 


VERDICT OF THE JURY 

How old are you ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know; s’pose Fm ’bout thirteen; my 
pal said so.” 

'' Can you read ? ” The boys looked at each 
other. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ You may make your defence.” 

Miffins drew a long breath, and said all he 
had to say in it. 

“ Ain’t got no defence to make. The boys 
wouldn’t er done it without me, an’ I told ’m 
how Fd seen it done in the Bowery shows, an’ I 
read ’em how ’twas done in ^ Jack the Pirate,’ 
an’ I knew how ’twas done in New York, an’ I 
was the one as put ’em up to it, — but I didn’t 
mean for Seth to be locked up — he didn’t take 
the robe, an’ he didn’t know who took it either, 
— nor for Billy” (Miffins almost broke down 
there) to take sick — an’ Fm sorry.” 

The boy could say no more; he flushed and 
trembled. Harry and Jim sprang to their feet. 

You sit down, Miffins,” said Jim, peremptorily. 
“ Harry, Fm going to have my say first.” Parson 
Leonard shaded his eyes with his hand. 

Squire Slocum, I feel just as mean as dirt 
sitting here and hearing Miffins take all the 
blame on himself. Now he’s told so on himself, 
Fm going to tell on myself, for ’tain’t fair for 
him to bear the brunt of it all. He ain’t strong 


206 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


enough, and, and ” — Jim’s voice trembled, 
— he hasn’t any father and mother, and I’ve 
had a bringing-up and he hasn’t, and if I’d been 
in his place I know I should have done the same, 
and I’m a great deal worse than he, for I knew 
better, and I — I stole your robe, Deacon Simms, 
and Seth never knew who took it.” 

Seth was roused by this last — his conscience 
gave an awful twinge, and he sprang to his feet, 
interrupting : 

But I knowed ’twas took, and thet’s ez bad 
as takin’, ’n’ I’m durned ef I’ll set still ’n’ see 
Miffins shoulder all on’t. I alius hankered arter 
bein’ a pirate, ’n’ I wuz ez fierce ez any of ’em, 
’n’ not half so brave.” Seth broke down in a sub- 
stantial blubber., 

“ Guess ’tis ’bout time fer the jury ter say 
suthin,” piped Barzy. 

Lawyer Slocum smiled. 

My halters ’n’ hold-back ain’t hurt none — 
’n’ boys will be boys. I guess some on us 
recolleck when we wuz ’bout these boys’ age, er 
gittin’ up ’fore light ’n’ robbin’ old Squire Hazen’s 
hen-roost coz he’d broke up all the ice fer skatin’, 
so’s ter let his boom er logs come down the 
Branch, ’n’ I ain’t er goin’ ter fling no stones 
’fore Thanksgivin’, neighbors.” And Barzy 
looked around inquiringly. 

Lawyer Slocum spoke gravely: 


VERDICT OF THE JURY 


207 


“ Before I came from home, my boy, Billy, 
owned up to me, and said, ‘ Father, tell the boys 
we’re all to blame, and ask the jury to start 
us fair and square and give us a trial.’ And, 
friends and neighbors, it is, in the law, a first 
offence. I leave the case in your hands.” 

Please wait a minute, gentlemen,” said Nance, 
in her sweet, clear voice, “ before you give your 
verdict. I’m Miffins’s friend,” — the boy’s 
heart fairly swelled within him, — “ and I want 
to tell you that he was not to blame about my 
going away. I haven’t any father and mother 
either, but I knew better; — and when I was in 
New York and saw what I did that night, — Mr. 
Anstey will tell you if you want to know, for he 
and his mother were kindness itself to me, — I 
couldn’t blame Miffins or anybody else like him 
for thinking as he does, and I’ve been ashamed 
of myself for keeping silence all this while, and 
you may include me in your verdict, too, for 
I deserve it.” 

If a bomb had fallen in their midst, the faces 
of those in the room could not have looked more 
amazed. Nancy Liscom and Mr. Anstey had 
known each other before! 

“ The jury will please step into the next 
room,” said Lawyer Slocum. And Barzy, Dea- 
con Simms, Farmer Babcock, Joe, and Reuben 
Liscom slowly filed into the adjoining store. In 


2o8 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


a few minutes back they came. Deacon Simms 
was spokesman. 

Squire Slocum, we’ve decided, seein’ ez these 
boys air our boys, ’n’ belong ter our village, that 
this their fust offence ain’t ter be counted agin 
’em. We’ve decided, too,” he said, addressing 
Miffins, “ thet you’re one of our boys, too, from 
this time on, ’n’ all we ask of you is ter try ter 
be an honor instid of a disgrace ter this place. 
Yer in good ban’s, — no better in this country, ef 
I do say it, Jacob, ter yer face, — ’n’ now we 
want yer ter start fair ’n’ make us proud of yer.” 

The boys drew a long breath. Then delicate 
Reuben Liscom spoke. 

“ I’ve no children of my own, neither has 
Jacob Foss, but between us we have Nancy and 
Miffins, and I know my niece will never do again 
what is not true and womanly,” and he sat down, 
coughing violently. Nance put her arm around 
his neck and kissed him then and there, much to 
her uncle’s surprise. The court was dismissed, 
and John Anstey, turning to speak to Nance, 
found she had fled. 

“ Is that you ? ” called Martha from the porch, 
as the wagon rumbled into the yard. There was 
only a frosting of snow as yet. 

“ Yes, Mrs. Foss, here we are, happy and 
hungry,” replied Anstey, and Martha knew that 
the verdict had been for acquittal. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The lo.jo Mail 


O N the tenth of December, the 10.30 south- 
bound mail-bag from Barnet carried, among 
other letters, the following : 

‘The Roost, Dec. 9th, 189—. 

“ Dear Burden : — Fve been gathering myself 
together these first three weeks — striking root, 
as well as I can, the ground being frozen ! This 
is why you have not heard from me. Thank 
you, old fellow, for the letters — they did me 
no end of good. I want you to come up later — 
when I have taken all my bearings. 

“ Here's my day : up at 6.30, rake out my 
embers, hickory and hard maple; boil a pint of 
milk over them while dressing; heavy golf shoes 
and stockings, knickerbockers, white sweater, 
wool scull-cap; hot milk and brown bread, but- 
tered (best of Jersey, unsalted!); build up a 
roaring fire, mercury hanging around zero ; then 
off for a four-mile sprint, doing it now in fifty 

209 


210 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


minutes. Oh, but it’s glorious! I walk on air, 
literally. Home and a plunge in my ‘ portable ’ 
before the fire; then breakfast, — good coffee, 
chunks of cream (I used to dream of this kind 
when I was in the fourth at St. Paul’s), two 
eggs, the cackle of their laying still warm upon 
them, brown bread, and raised biscuit. Then 
school. I have but one session, nine to twelve, 
for four days only; and, curiously, Mifffns, a 
newsboy waif whom these good people have 
taken, is the youngest; he is about thirteen. 
There are twenty-five in all, and not one a dunce. 
I have formed two Latin classes and one science 
class. On Friday, the fifth school day, I have 
the whole twenty-five come up to me in my den 
and take our ‘ literature ’ together. I get eight 
dollars a week for this ! — and pay three for 
board, . ‘ washing not included,’ as the telegram 
ran. Boys and girls — co-eds in the true sense 
— pretty girls, too. But Nancy Liscom, an ac- 
quaintance of my mother’s and a distant cousin 
of the Barnards, is by far the prettiest and 
cleverest. 

“ Home, two miles, for dinner with the family 
at twelve-thirty; then off with Jacob Foss — 
there isn’t his like out of a book — to the wood- 
lot, where I cut and hew a la Gladstone, till my 
circulation is assured for the next twenty-four 
hours. Back at the house by five; an hour’s 


THE 10,30 MAIL 


21 1 


reading, letters, papers, etc.; supper at six, and 
then, oh, bliss! slippers, shooting- jacket, a roar- 
ing fire, the dogs, and my one pipe! 

‘‘ Miffins comes in for his Latin and other 
things about half-past seven — and abed at eight- 
forty-five! All of the windows open! How 
is that for a regimen? 

“ I can’t begin to tell you of the people about 
here — you must see for yourself when you come ; 
but it’s as good as a serial story, — the whole 
thing. Snow has held off thus far; too cold; 
ten below this morning when I went out; sky 
deep blue — pines black against it — absolute 
silence for half an hour, then a chickadee broke 
it ! I’m getting a hold on life in this hill 
country I’ve never had before. 

“ Kindest regards to your sister — the city life 
seems very far away just at present — and let 
me hear from you soon. Yours, 

JOHN.^^ 

'' Hurdyville, Vermont, Dec. 8th, 189—. 

'' My dear Mrs. Anstey : — Just to think that 
Mr. Anstey came up himself to settle matters! 
I saw him for the first time the day before 
Thanksgiving, when the jury met to decide about 
the boys who stole the things from the farmers. 
They were acquitted, not because they stole, but 
because it was a ^ first offence,’ and they belonged 


212 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


to our village. I was just as proud of those little 
thieves as I could be! which sounds queer, but 
I mean it. Every boy was unwilling poor Mif- 
fins should take all the blame upon himself, and 
when the poor cripple stood up before all 
those men to confess, I saw how his leg, his best 
one, shook like a leaf, and he looked at Mr. 
iVnstey just as if he were asking for help, and 
Mr. Anstey looked at him — oh, I can’t tell you 
how 1 — but Miffins went right on and confessed 
he was the one to blame. 

‘‘ I saw tears rolling down Mr. Leonard’s face, 
— that’s our minister, — and poor Barzy, an old 
farmer who lives alone on the mountain, sniffed 
and kept wiping the water from his eyes and 
nose with the back of his coat sleeve. Miffins 
stood up like a man, but he looked so pitiful with 
that dreadfully shrunken leg and twisted body, 
that I could have cried myself. But in a minute 
I had all I could do to keep from laughing out 
loud, for Seth — that’s Deacon Simms’s boy — 
broke down and blubbered, after saying he had 
always wanted to be a pirate! If you could 
see him! Fat, slow, sandy-haired, with pale 
blue eyes and white lashes, like a pig’s — any- 
thing but a pirate in looks ! 

School opened with fifteen boys and girls; 
now there are twenty-five, and only the second 
week. 


THE 10,30 MAIL 


213 


“ I go every day because Mr. Anstey is our 
teacher. Tm the only one who takes French. 
I'm taking Latin too. Miffins is the youngest, 
but he is almost the brightest. He has changed 
so much since he came here — not in looks, but 
in his ways and speech. We call him ' Mr. 
Anstey’s shadow,’ for you’re pretty sure to see 
him wherever you see Mr. Anstey. 

‘‘ Mrs. Foss is going to have a Christmas tree 
in her kitchen on Christmas eve, and I want 
to give Miffins a present, something from New 
York. I enclose a dollar of my own money, and 
would you be so kind as to buy him a pair of 
fur-lined kid gloves like Mr. Anstey’s, about 
three sizes smaller? I heard him say he would 
like to be grown-up and earning money so that 
he might dress like Mr. Anstey. I’m going to 
help him to as far as I can, so I’ll begin with the 
gloves. 

Everything is all smoothed out now Mr. 
Anstey is here. Billy is much better and will 
come to school after Christmas. With love, 

“ Nancy Liscom.^'’ 

‘‘The Roost, Wednesday Evening. 

“To THE DEAREST WOMAN IN THIS WORLD ! 
Fact, mother mine, although you had your doubts 
a year or two ago. Now I appeal to the dearest 
of her kind to help me out at both ends, — that 
is, Fifth Avenue and Beaver Tail. 


214 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


'' Fve put Mrs. Foss up to having a Christmas 
tree in her kitchen, — which you must see some- 
time, — and we’ve invited Miffins’s ‘ pals ’ in 
iniquity, Jim and Harry and Billy and Seth and 
Nancy Liscom, to come over to a grand goose 
dinner and help trim the tree for the evening, 
when we’ve asked the whole school up to the 
Roost; it’s to be a real neighborhood tree. 

“ Of course, I want to make a lot of presents, 
— the right kind, — and you and father and 
Burden must help me out. I enclose this list; 
first as to books : 

“4 ‘Treasure Island’ (Seth is to have one 
of these). 

“ 4 ‘ King Arthur ’ — Sir Thomas Malory, you 
know (Miffins and Nance get two of these). 

“ 6 ‘ Vision of Sir Launfal.’ 

“ 3 ‘ Huckleberry Finn.’ 

“8 ‘Tom Brown at Rugby’ (I must work 
these boys up to football by spring). Then, — 

“ 8 of the best jack-knives you can find. 
(Father’ll know the kind I want.) 

“ 3 golf sets. 

“ 30 lbs. of Huyler’s mixed candies. 

“ I box Florida oranges. 

“10 hockey sticks. 

“ These are for boys — but as for the girls — 
1 11 leave that to you. I suppose glove-boxes or 
ribbons or something lik« that would be suitable. 


THE 10.30 MAIL 


215 


Come to think of it — I don’t know as they have 
many gloves up here, but the ribbons would be 
all right. 

ril send you another word to-morrow. At 
present, to use Jacob Foss’s expression, ' I’m so 
drove ’ I can’t write another word. 

“ Your devoted 
“ John.” 

Hurdyville, Vermont, Dec. 9th, 189--. 

Hi Spikes : — I hear you’re in an office and 
getting thirty dollars a month! Wish I was 
you, except that I’ve got so good a bunk here 
that I don’t feel like leaving. Mr. Anstey told 
me he knew you, and you was in the office of 
one of his pals. I told him you was my pal for 
one winter. Do you mind it. Spikes ? — the night 
before the Christmas shindy at the Home — how 
we laid in the Water Street alley in the heap of 
straw ? 

I’ve put inside of this a dollar, it’s mine, 
and I want you to buy a good pair of suspenders 
— they’re for Mr. Foss, the man I live with — 
and a white apron for Mrs. Foss, and send ’em 
to me through the mail. We’re going to have 
a Christmas tree up at our house. I’m going up 
into the woods with Mr. Anstey to help cut it. 
Wish you was here with your old pal, 

“ Miffins. 


2i6 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


P. S. I’m studying arithmetic and history 
and Latin, and if you hear of another place at 
thirty dollars a month within a couple of years, 
just let me know.” 

“ Hurdyville, Vermont, Dec. 9th, 189--. 

“ To THE Secretary of the 
Newsboys" Home. 

‘‘ Dear Sir : — I enclose my check for three 
hundred dollars, to be expended in the usual 
Christmas treat for the boys. I send a box 
Christmas week, the contents of which have 
been contributed and made by the boys and 
girls of the district school of Hurdyville, Ver- 
mont. The prime mover in this contribution is 
Miffins, a crippled newsboy who used to sell 
papers in Park Row. Tell the boys this, and 
ask them if they remember Miffins; if they do, 
I know they’ll give a three times three, a rouser, 
in acknowledgment. Yours truly, 

‘‘John Anstey.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

In the Roost 

T T seemed as if Anstey, who had come to 
A the Green Hills to fight for his life, had given 
new life to the whole village. 

For three weeks before Christmas, there was 
nothing talked of but the Christmas tree at Mrs. 
Foss’s. For three weeks every pair of knitting- 
needles in the village were in use, clicking and 
flying, for John had asked Miflins what would 
be the best gift for the newsboys, and he had 
answered promptly, ‘‘ Mittens and mufflers.” 
This was at once communicated to Nance, who 
spread it with enthusiasm, and soon, not only 
every girl in the school, but every girl’s mother, 
aunts, and female cousins were engaged in the 
mitten and muffler industry. Even Jane Slocum 
contributed three pairs and a muffler. The result 
was one hundred pairs of mittens and thirty 
mufflers. 

Harry and Seth, Jim and Mifflns met two 
afternoons in one week, and cracked butternuts 
217 


2I8 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


till their hands were stained walnut color. But 
a half-bushel of the kernels was the result. Hear- 
ing of which, Mrs. Leonard opened wide her 
kitchen doors, and a half-dozen girls and boys 
made panful after panful of delicious butternut 
candy. 

The whole school went into the woods on a 
crisp Saturday morning, and brought home a 
wopd-sled load of birch bark. And that very 
evening, the best workers among the boys and 
girls, twelve in all, met in Anstey’s den, and, 
while the apples sputtered and swelled before 
the hot coals of the fireplace, sat around the pine 
table and made boxes of birch bark, lined them 
with waxed paper, and filled them with layers of 
butternut taffy. John tied each box, as it was 
finished and filled, with a brown hemp cord, and 
attached a small birch-bark card to each, which 
read, From ‘ The Roost ’ to ‘ The Home.’ ” 

On another afternoon, the hills echoed to merry 
shouting and laughter, for Jacob had hitched 
up double,” and the jigger bore a load of boys 
and girls up into the woods beyond the back pas- 
ture, there to gather Christmas greens — ground 
pine, ground hemlock, and bittersweet. 

Billy, who was just able to be about, wrote, 
at the suggestion of his father, a half-dozen notes 
to various farmers, asking for a bushel of apples ; 
and five barrels of fine Northern Spies was the 
result of his effort. 


IN THE ROOST 


219 


Even Deacon Simms gave Seth twenty pounds 
of good maple sugar, in cakes, left over from the 
spring, and Seth appeared one bitter morning at 
the Roost, with a twenty-pound bag of maple 
sugar over one shoulder, and a half-bushel bag 
of hickory nuts, which he himself had gathered, 
slung over the other. 

Martha Foss’s heart and hands were full, and 
Jacob went about rubbing his horny ones with 
a peculiarly satisfied air. 

“ The Roost’s er hummin’, marm,” he re- 
marked, with a beaming face, on the day the 
boxes and barrels were sent off. ‘‘ I ain’t felt 
so young sence I wuz er boy; be sure ’n’ hev 
’nuff ter feed ’em, marm, the night er the party.” 

Don’t you worry ’bout that, father,” said 
Martha, smiling. “ Come here.” She beckoned 
him into the pantry. Look er there ! ” she ex- 
claimed with pride. 

Jacob laughed aloud. 

“ Yer dew beat all, Marthy, when yer git yer 
steam up! Le’s count.” And Jacob proceeded 
to count the good things on the broad pine 
shelves : 

Sixteen mince pies, ten pumpkin pies, two 
loaves er plum-cake, four loaves er marble cake, 
two ten-quart pans er nut-cakes, two milk-pails 
full er frosted seed-cookies, two biled hams, two 
roast turkeys, ’n’ six chickens, three five-story 


220 THE LITTLE CITIZEN 

jelly-cakes — Jerusalem ! This beats all creation, 
marm.” 

An' that ain’t all/' said Martha, compla- 
cently. ‘‘ I’m a-goin’ ter give ’em angel cake 
’n’ whipped cream that night.” 

“ Well, I won’t worry any more ’bout fodder, 
Marthy. Guess we’ll hev snow ter-night sure.” 

^‘I’ll be glad on it,” said Martha. “It’ll 
seem more like Christmas.” 

Even as she spoke, out of a sky like lead, the 
snow began to fall; at first a stray flake, then 
a flurry, and, as night came on, it fell densely, 
steadily, straight as a plummet — blotting out 
roads, pastures, and woodlands, blanketing the 
Roost with white, shutting in Martha and Jacob 
and' John Anstey and Miflins within the warm, 
glowing rooms, shutting out the night, as, one 
after the other, they went to the door and looked 
out. 

“ We’ll hev ter break out roads by ter-morrer 
noon if this keeps on,” said Jacob at supper. 

“ I suppose they won’t send up anything from 
the station,” said John Anstey. The gifts for 
the tree had not come. 

“ No, we’ll hev ter go down ter-morrer ef 
we want anything,” replied Jacob. 

But by the next noon the roads were almost 
impassable; and the snow was still falling, but 
in swirls and whirls and blasts of icy particles. 


IN THE ROOST 


221 


for the mercury had fallen during the night and 
the wind risen, sweeping the snow into drifts 
and blocking the roads. 

Jacob fidgeted all day, but Martha and John 
held him back, figuratively, by the coat-tails,' and 
would not let him harness up to try his prowess 
in the drifts. 

“ If you’ll wait, father, till it stops snowin’, 
I won’t hender, but I can’t hev you goin’ out in 
this storm,” said Martha. 

“ Wal, wal, marm, hev your own way this 
time,” said Jacob, a little testily. 

All that night the storm continued. The wind 
howled in the chimneys, dashed the snow against 
the panes, roared beneath the eaves, and block- 
aded the doors, assaulting the old farmhouse 
on every side, while warm and sheltered within, 
Jacob and Martha drew their cotton nightcaps 
over their ears and slept the sleep of the just. 
Miffins snuggled deep in the feather bed, dream- 
ing pleasant dreams; John Anstey sat until 
midnight before the roaring fire, upon which 
a snow-flake fell now and then, hissing spitefully, 
thinking thoughts too deep for expression, but 
which ranged from Vermont to New York, 
from Beaver Tail to Fifth Avenue, from his 
fight for his life to Miffins and Nance and the 
boys and girls whom he taught each day; from 
Burden’s pretty sister and the teas and dinners 


222 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


and the dance at Sherry’s, to the misery and 
want and wickedness of the East Side; from 
the lodgings for men and boys in the Bowery, 
where on bitter winter nights like this they 
were herded like cattle in pens, to Miffins in his 
snug little room across the passage. He rose and 
pulled aside the curtains at the west window. 
The panes were plastered white with snow. 

‘‘ No sleeping with open windows to-night 
unless I want to wake in a snow-drift,” he 
thought, and after raking together the coals and 
covering them with ashes, he turned in. 

“ No sprint for me, either,” he said, as he 
woke the next morning and looked out. The 
snow had ceased. All the world was white. 
The sky, deep blue streaked with rose, heralded 
the coming sun. Anstey had awakened in a new 
world. 

Something was coming up the road — turn- 
ing into the yard. A-hish, a-hish — Gee there!” 
piped a voice he recognized as Barzy’s, and two 
noble oxen, their hides steaming, their breath 
forming vaporous clouds in front of them, hove 
into sight. 

Martha and Jacob heard the welcome sound 
at the same moment. She flung open the porch 
door, and called out: 

“ Is that you, Barzy ? However did you 
break through alone this mornin’ ? ” 


IN THE ROOST 


223 


“ Yes, it’s me, Mrs. Foss,” piped Barzy. “ I 
wuz down ter the village yesterday, ’n’ the stage 
brung up these boxes fer Mr. Anstey, ’n’ I tuk 
’em along home with me; fer, sez I, Jacob can’t 
git down off er his hill ter-night, ’n’ I scented 
Christmas er suthin’ like it ’bout them boxes, ’n’ 
I thought I might jest ez well break out this 
end o’ the hill road this mornin’ as t’other; so 
I brung ’em over.” 

“ Well, Barzy, yer beat me this time. I’d er 
ben thar las’ night sure pop, but I wuz dretful 
henpecked ’bout thet time. Marthy wouldn’t let 
me go, nohow.” 

“ Wal, I hain’t no women folks ter henpeck 
me — but I don’t deny, Jacob, thar ain’t spells 
when I’d ez live be henpecked ez not.” And 
Barzy laughed shrilly. 

The poor soul,” said pitiful Martha, and 
proceeded to make an extra quart of her best 
coffee. “ Barzy ! ” she called, as Jacob and he 
were unloading the boxes, despite Anstey’s 
protestations to wait till he was dressed. 

Barzy!” 

“ Yes, Miss Foss.” 

“ You come right in an’ have your breakfast 
’fore you think er breakin’ out any farther; 
we’re jest ready to set down.” 

So Barzy sat down and was warmed and fed 
and made much of, to his supreme satisfaction. 


224 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


He promised to come with his fiddle for the 
evening. Then he and Jacob started out to 
break a road to the village. 

It’s lucky we cut this tree three days ago, 
Miffins,” said Anstey. “ We couldn’t get so far 
as the home pasture this morning, not without 
my snowshoes. I’ve sent for two pairs. I think 
they are in one of the boxes. We’ll get the 
covers off, and wait for the rest to unpack.” 

He dragged the noble fir into the kitchen, and 
set it up in the socket he had made for it. How 
strong and sturdy and well-developed it stood 
there, its topmost branches crowding the ceiling! 
In a few minutes the room was filled with the 
fragrance of the balsam. Mififins helped set the 
table for the dinner-party, while Anstey cleared 
the room for company. 

They were busy at work, for there was much 
to be done, when the merry jingle of sleigh-bells 
rang out on the still air, and Lawyer Slocum 
drove his double sleigh into the yard, and out 
from beneath the robes of buffalo and fox sprang 
Nance and Billy and Jim and Harry and Seth. 

‘‘We’ve come early, Mrs. Foss,” cried Nance, 
“because we knew you would need help in the 
Roost to-day. Merry Christmas I — I’ve said it 
first I ” she cried. 

Then such a shouting of “ Merry Christmas ” 
as there was! And when Nance had flung her 


IN THE ROOST 


225 


arms around Martha’s neck and kissed her 
heartily, Jim Leonard said he would not be out- 
done by a girl in “ good will ” on Christmas day, 
and therewith gave Martha such a resounding 
kiss that Harry and Billy immediately followed 
suit, and Seth, screwing his courage to the stick- 
ing-point, sidled up to Martha, and in his shyness 
planted a kiss on the tip end of her nose. At 
which none laughed more heartily than Martha, 
who placeid her hand lovingly on poor, awkward 
Seth’s shoulder, and said: 

“ I’m so glad you could come, Seth, an’ I hope 
you’ll be able to stay all day.” 

Such a Christmas dinner as that was! They 
one and all declared there never was such a roast 
goose before. Never had they eaten such stuffing 
,of raisins and apples. Never had they tasted 
such plum-pudding. Never had they eaten such 
pumpkin pie, and never, no, never, had they had 
such appetites with which to eat it. And Martha’s 
heart was rejoiced, and Jacob’s eyes were glad- 
dened at the sight of the happy faces around the 
table, none happier than Miffins, who sat quietly 
between Anstey and Martha, and wondered how 
it had all come about. 

And Nance, too, was so merry and bright — 
so helpful in every way. She donned Martha’s 
checked gingham apron, and served the table as 
if she had been a trained waitress, to Martha’s 


226 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


infinite amazement, and Anstey’s amusement. She 
and Miffins washed the dishes afterward, while 
the boys helped John bring in the presents. 

After that, until five o’clock, no finger was idle 
in the old Roost, and when at six the whole party, 
in a jigger on runners, drawn by four horses, 
wheeled into the yard, amid shouts and laughter 
and the blowing of tin horns, and drew up at 
the porch door, the old farmhouse had been trans- 
formed. 

The newcomers did not come empty-handed, 
and each one brought some contribution to the 
general fund of happiness. 

What a sight greeted their eyes as they trooped 
into the kitchen! 

There were wreaths of ground pine and bitter- 
sweet at every window, and garlands of the same 
looped from door to window, from window to 
shelf all around the rooms. At the sitting-room 
end, towered the tree ablaze with colored candles, 
its sturdy branches drooping but little under the 
weight of the many gifts, its rich, dark-green 
contrasting so pleasantly with the vari-colored 
boxes and books and ribbons. The dining-room 
table had been removed to Anstey’s room, and 
that stood, together with the pine table, covered 
with soft green moss, upon which were piled 
pyramids of oranges and stacks of frosted seed- 
cakes and nut-cakes. In the centre, on a bread- 


IN THE ROOST 


227 


board covered with green tissue paper, stood a 
noble pink-frosted plum-cake, Martha’s master- 
piece, and flanking it in wooden plates (such as 
bakers use) was the whole tribe of pies. 

At one end, in a large kneading-tray, lay the 
turkey and chickens, trussed with green. At the 
other end, on another board, was a huge ham. 
There were piles of bread and butter in work- 
baskets borrowed for the occasion, and the angel 
cake and whipped cream hovered, cloud-like, in the 
distance on a small side-table. 

Never in its hundred and ten years of existence 
had the old farmhouse seen such an evening. 
Knowing that the young people would enjoy their 
supper better after their curiosity as to their pres- 
ents had been satisfied, John and Miffins and 
Nance began to give them out among Ohs ” 
and Ahs ” innumerable. 

There was such an opening and shutting of 
jack-knives ; such a trying on of neckties ; such a 
matching of ribbons with eyes blue, black, or 
brown ; such excited discussions over the hockey- 
sticks; such an opening and shutting of books 
as the Roost had never witnessed before. The 
little candles were burning low before the gifts 
had received half the admiration intended for 
them, and an invitation from Anstey to blow 
them out was generally accepted, and furnished 
sport for all. 


228 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Then they trooped into Anstey’s den, and again 
the Ohs ” and “ Ahs ” broke loose, and Jacob 
was in his glory, dispensing cold turkey and 
chicken with a generous hand, while Anstey 
carved the ham. 

Nance was the embodiment of the Christmas 
spirit that evening. Her gray eyes fairly danced 
with joy, her cheeks were red with health and 
excitement, her dress, on which she had spent 
much labor and care, was very becoming, and girl- 
like, she knew it. It was of white serge, — a gift 
from Mrs. Anstey, — with a belt and collar of pale- 
blue silk. Every eye followed her with pleasure, 
as she deftly and quietly served first this one, 
then that, her sweet voice and merry laugh sound- 
ing joyously above the chatter and exclamations. 

Martha seemed to have lost the power of speech 
as well as locomotion. John Anstey had placed 
her in his big armchair, and old and young vied 
with each other to spoil her with attentions. 

She found time, however, to pull Miffins into 
the pantry and take his small face between her 
hands and kiss it, whispering, “ My dear boy, 
this apron is more to me than all the rest.” And 
this time Miffins did not put up the back of 
his hand to wipe it off. The pantry was dark, 
— he put up both arms, steadying himself on his 
crutch, and gave Martha Foss such a hug that 
the breath was nearly squeezed from her plump 
little body. 


IN THE ROOST 


229 


To Miffins’s surprise it wasn’t half so hard 
to give that squeeze and receive that kiss as he 
had supposed — and he began to wish he might 
have one from Nance, she looked so sweet in her 
white dress. So he watched his opportunity. 
It came sooner than he had anticipated; for 
before he could get out of the pantry, Martha 
having hurried away upon hearing her name 
called, in flew Nance for an extra basketful of 
cookies.' 

She gave a little shriek as she saw Miffins. 

“ Oh, goodness ! How you frightened me ! 
What are you in here for ? ” 

“ I say, Nance.” 

“ Well, say. I’m in a hurry.” 

“ Those gloves were A No. i.” 

'‘Yes, I knew they were — that’s why I got 
them for you.” 

“And, Nance — hold on a minute;” he laid 
his hand on her arm. 

“ It’s you that are holding on — what do you 
want, anyway ? ” 

“ This is better’n the circus dress,” he said, 
pointing to her white serge. 

“Of course it is, you little gander — anybody 
can see that.” 

“ I say, Nance — ” 

“ For gracious sake, say ahead and let me go.” 

“ You ain’t laid it up against me, have you, 
that New York scrape? ” 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


230 

“ Laid it up against you! ” repeated Nance in 
amazement. “ Why, of course I haven’t.” 

“ Well, Mrs. Foss ain’t, either, ’n’ she gave 
me a kiss just now in here, an’ I thought as how 
— perhaps — I didn’t know — ” 

Nance interrupted him with a merry laugh. 
“ You thought I’d give you another! So I will,” 
she added, promptly popping a kiss down on the 
astonished boy’s head. “ There, now, that’s for 
sending me off to New York — it was the best 
thing that ever happened to me,” and off she flew, 
leaving a rather dazed specimen of boyhood in 
the pantry. 

The long kitchen had been cleared of chairs 
and tables while the young people were feasting 
in Anstey’s room, and, after the supper, they 
formed in two long lines for the Virginia reel, 
Jacob leading with Nance, and Anstey at the foot 
with Martha. Barzy tuned up with the Camp- 
bells are coming,” and away went Jacob and his 
partner to meet Anstey and his. That was danc- 
ing! No sliding and slipping and gracefully 
walking through a mock country dance, but a 
real old-fashioned Virginia reel, steps and bows 
and twists and turns all performed to the letter. 
Martha was soon breathless, and was led 
into the den by her escort, who aided her in 
clearing up while the rest danced. Jacob kept 
on to the very end, and danced as if strung on 
wires. 


IN THE ROOST 


231 


Barzy’s fiddle gave out at last on the Camp- 
bells,” and “ Money Musk ” took its place, which 
sent a thrill of new life through the long line of 
the reel. 

At last, panting, breathless, flushed, the part- 
ners bowed for the last time, and voted a rest of 
ten minutes. 

Soon, however, before the ten minutes were 
over, a chorus of voices arose: 

Your promise, Mr. Anstey, your promise ! ” 
When you’re ready, I am,” said Anstey, 
smiling down into the eager faces. 

“ We’re ready, we’re ready ! Hurrah for the 
* Christmas Carol,’ ” shouted Jim Leonard, and 
they trooped again into John’s room, from which 
the table had disappeared, and seats had been 
provided for part; the rest sat on the rugs, and 
John took up his place by the fire, and read by 
its bright light. 

How still it was as he began! And how 
breathless, almost, as he went on. He had prom- 
ised this Christmas story, at first to the Dickens 
Club, which had been formed among the older 
boys and girls, then to the whole school. And 
now the whole school was living over the expe- 
riences of Scrooge, Bob Cratchit, and Tiny Tim. 

The old clock in the passage struck eleven just 
as John Anstey closed with the loveliest Christ- 
mas words that were ever penned : '' God bless 


232 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


us every one.” In the silence that followed there 
were lumps in more throats than Miffins’s, the 
only crippled Tiny Tim in their midst. 

Jacob rose, and laying a hand on Anstey’s 
shoulder, and one on Miffins’s, who was on the 
rug beside him, said solemnly, with trembling 
voice, God bless us every one.” ‘‘ Amen,” said 
Martha and John Anstey. 

Then, to break the hush that had fallen upon 
the merry voices, Anstey proposed that they all 
sing America,” Barzy leading with the fiddle. 
How they sang! 

“ God bless our native land, 

Firm may she ever stand 
Through storm and night.” 

Then Jacob must needs quaver forth “ March- 
ing through Georgia,” in which voices and boots 
joined in a rousing chorus; and Martha wanted 
the “ Old Oaken Bucket ” twice over, and when 
Lawyer Slocum made his appearance at the porch, 
calling, Time! the thermometer’s looking blue,” 
they greeted him with We Won’t Go Home 
Till Morning,” and kept it up till they were 
nearly smothered in the robes of the jigger and 
sleigh; then rousing hurrahs, three times three, 
echoed among the hills, for Jacob Foss and Mar- 
tha, for Mr. Anstey and Barzy, and last a regular 
wild-cat howl for Miffins, which he answered 
with a true ‘‘ Extra ” yell. 


IN THE ROOST 


233 


‘‘ Well, Tm about tuckered out,” sighed Mar- 
tha, contentedly, as she sank into a chair in the 
chaotic kitchen. 

“ Gi’n out, marm? Wal, Td like ter go right 
through the hull party agin, 'n’ begin right 
now ! ” And Jacob slapped his thigh while his 
feet kept time to the echoes of “ Money Musk ” 
that were still ringing in his ears. 

Martha laughed heartily. I never see sech 
a man as Jacob, Mr. Anstey; he ain’t more’n a 
boy in his heart, an’ never will be if he lives to 
be a hundred. — What be you doin’, Mr. An- 
stey ? ” 

'' Just clearing up a little, Mrs. Foss. We’ll 
put the furniture back in its place, and you go 
to bed and rest you.” 

I dunno but I will,” sighed Martha, murmur- 
ing to herself, “ I never see sech a man ! ” But 
this time it was the boarder she designated thus. 

As John and Miffins put the last piece in its 
place the clock struck twelve. 

“Tired, Miffins?” 

“ Yes, sir, some.” 

“ Look up here.” 

The boy looked up with all his boy’s heart in 
his eyes: 

“ It’s been great, sir; the Christmas shindy at 
the Home ain’t in it.” 

“ Good-night, Miffins,” said Anstey, with a 
smile. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


In Camp 



OOD comradeship between teacher and 


pupils, a Dickens class that met in the den 
once in two weeks, glorious moonlight toboggan 
slides (introduced by Anstey) down the hill road, 
hockey on the crust, Canadian snow-shoeing over 
fence and wall, two weeks’ skating on the level 
reaches of the Branch, and solid work during 
the one session of school, filled the short winter 
days and long evenings to overflowing. 

Miffins had astonished Anstey. The boy put 
himself to study with a will and energy that 
would have threatened his health, had not his 
friend and teacher found ways for much out-of- 
door life for him. Crippled as he was, all sports 
were denied to him, and it was impossible in 
the bitter weather for him to stand about to 
watch the other boys. 

Anstey gave two hours every afternoon to 
felling trees or chopping wood in the wood lot, 
and Miffins was with him, working with saw and 


IN CAMP 


235 


hatchet to clear away branches. Thus he came 
to be learned in woodcraft, — empty nests, squir- 
rel-holes, coon-hollows, grain and bark, and 
knowledge of the wonderful anatomy of all the 
forest trees. Once in awhile he tobogganed 
alone with Anstey, who dared not risk the danger- 
ous sport with him in a crowd. Regularly every 
school morning, John drew him on the small 
wood-sled to school, and at twelve drew him home 
again. This close companionship with the man 
who stood to him for all that was manly was 
Miffins’s best education. 

By February he had outstripped the first year 
Latin class, and his mathematics were a wonder 
to John as well as to the others. Nancy patron- 
ized him no longer. She confided to her Aunt 
Liscom that Miifins was becoming a gentleman, 
like Mr. Anstey. 

Now John Anstey had never made one sugges- 
tion to Miffins since the night he had held him 
in his arms and literally taken the waif to his 
heart. But he had read with him old Sir Thomas 
Malory’s “ King Arthur,” and talked over the 
lives and deeds of the Knights of the Round 
Table. The boy had seen so much of evil in his 
short life that Anstey never shunned the discus- 
sion of it with him, but treated it in a human way, 
and constantly showed his own preference for the 
nobler knights. 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


236 

He tried his best to find out who was Miffins’s 
favorite, but the boy was shy, even with him, of 
showing his feelings, and John did not press him. 
To Dickens, Miffins was devoted; ever since the 
night Anstey had read the ‘‘ Christmas Carol,'' 
Miffins had spent the little spare time he had in 
devouring one Dickens book after another ; “ Oli- 
ver Twist," for whom he had a fellow feeling; 
“ Pickwick Papers," over which he shouted with 
glee, and “ Old Curiosity Shop," over certain 
chapters of which he felt very lumpy in his throat. 

Before the boys and girls of the district school 
could realize it, the winter term was over and 
two weeks' vacation gave them time to help at 
home in “ sugaring," a staple industry in the 
Green Hills. 

On the twentieth of March, Jacob heard a faint 
caw, caw." “ The first crow, marm," he said, 
coming into the kitchen with a new-born lamb 
in his arms, which he deposited in a basket near 
the stove. 

Thet means spring's er cornin' within the nex’ 
month. 'Bout time ter soak out the sap pails 'n' 
tubs; we'll need ’em all ef this weather holds. 
Guess I'll git 'em out now. Ever done any 
sugarin’, Mr. Anstey? " 

‘‘No, sir — but I've always wanted to ever 
since I read about it when I was a boy." 

“ Wal, ther’z plenty er work fer all, once the 


IN CAMP 


237 


sap gits ter runnin'. I’ll want yer two ban’s too, 
sonny ; they’re mighty good ones ter handle 
spigots.” 

“What’s a spigot?” said Miffins. 

Jacob laughed. “ I thought yer’d lamed ’bout 
all ther wuz ter larn this winter from Mr. Anstey, 
but I guess Jacob Foss can larn both on ye 
sugarin’. I’ll set yer both ter work makin’ 
spigots this forenoon, ’n’ this arternoon we’ll go 
up ter the sugar-house ’n’ look things over.” 

The sugar-house stood in the woods just off 
from the wood-road as it crossed the back pasture 
to the summit of Beaver Tail. Its walls were of 
rough spruce battened with strips of pine. It 
was about ten by fourteen feet, roofed with spruce 
bark ; on one side wide swing-doors opened to the 
south. 

There was a stone fireplace at one end. 
Directly in front of the hut, at a distance of some 
fifteen feet, were three circles of rough stones 
and three iron crotches set firmly over them. 
From these were to swing the huge sap-kettles 
which Jacob had brought up with him, besides 
a load of sap buckets, tubs, and pails. 

It was a fine March day in those mountain 
regions. A warm, brilliant sun, and a crisp air 
joined to make life a delight at that altitude, 
nineteen hundred feet above sea level. The 
savage in Anstey longed to be one with such a 


238 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


free life, and Miffins, too, wished he might stay 
Up there and ‘‘ camp out.” 

“ This is better than an Adirondack camp, Mif- 
fins — ril tell you what we’ll do,” — John was 
as eager as a boy, — “ we’ll bring up some fixings 
and sleep up here during the ‘ sugaring-off,’ 
and tend the fires and kettles for Mr. Foss.” 

Oh, bully ! and bring the guns ? ” said Miffins. 

“Of course,” laughed Anstey; “they belong 
to a camp — although there won’t be much to 
shoot, I fancy.” 

“ And will we cook our own things ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, coffee and bacon and that sort of 
thing — the rest we shall have to ask Mrs. Foss 
to provide.” 

“ When can we begin ? ” 

“ We’ll ask Mr. Foss; it will depend on him.” 

Jacob had been off in the woods testing first 
one tree, then another. 

“ It’s time we wuz at work,” he said. “ It’s 
er goin’ ter freeze nights ’n’ thaw days, ’n’ thet’s 
sugar weather — feel the snow,” and he caught 
up a lump of water-soaked snow and handed it 
to Anstey. “ ’Tain’t so deep in the woods but 
tbet we can git round all right.” 

“ Then we can carry out our plan to-morrow, 
can’t we? ” Anstey laid it before him. 

Jacob slapped his thigh in his delight. 

“ Wal, thet’s er good ’un — ter think of er 


IN CAMP 


239 


city chap er leavin’ his good bed ’n’ camping 
down up on the mountin! What’ll Marthy say? 
I’m feared she’ll be agin it — it’s ketchin’ 
weather.” By which Jacob intended to intimate 
that colds might be in order for those who slept 
out o’ nights. 

“ We’ll try it, anyway, Mr. Foss.” 

‘‘ Wal, it’ll be a soft snap, ez you boys say, 
fer me,” replied Jacob. “ I’ve tended sap-kettles 
fer thirty year, ’n’ ’tain’t all play. I’m willin’ 
’nuff ter hev a restin’ spell.” 

But there was no “ resting-spell ” for any one 
during the next eight days. 

The sap began to run under the influence of 
the northward-turning sun, and pails and buckets 
were in constant use. 

Seven hundred fine sugar maples were tapped 
and tended, and the yield was enormous. 

John Anstey wrote to Burden that he enjoyed 
it better than the tall-game stalking in the Rockies, 
in which he had indulged the year before. 

There was a good floor to the sugar-house, 
and Martha had sent up two feather beds, six 
blankets, two comforters, and two buffalo-robes. 
These they put upon burlap-bottoms fastened on 
large cleats to the side of the hut. At night the 
water skimmed with ice in the one wooden sap- 
bucket they used for their ablutions, and both 
of them drew their woollen tarns over their ears 


240 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


and down to their eyes, and, burrowing in the 
blankets, comforters, and buffalo robes, slept 
famously. 

They had the dogs with them. They slept 
with them as foot-warmers. The guns were in 
the rack they had hung up on the back wall, and 
a coffee-pot and tin cups and plates completed 
their outfit. 

They kept the fires by raking the ashes over 
them about ten at night, and in the morning it 
was the work of a few minutes to boil the water, 
make the coffee, and poach eggs over the glowing 
under coals. 

Potatoes were roasted in the most approved 
manner among the hot stones, and steak and 
chops done to a turn on the heated slabs, which 
John had found in an old stone wall up in the 
pasture. 

Jacob appeared regularly at half-past seven, 
and from that time, Anstey and Miffins had not 
one moment of idleness until six at night. 

Jacob and John brought in the buckets of sap 
by means of yokes, and Miffins tended the fires 
and looked to the sap in the kettles, that it did 
not boil over. 

It was in the evening after seven and before 
ten, that John and Miffins, stretched on the buf- 
falo-robes before the blazing fire, that sent the 
shadows dancing about in the bare maples above 


IN CAMP 


241 

and around them, came to know each other 
intimately. 

John had noticed that the boy, earnest as ever 
in his work and whole-hearted in his play, had 
grown more quiet of late, just before the sugaring. 
Sometimes he had watched him, when the others 
were at their sports, and seen him turn from all 
the fun and peg away into the schoolroom to 
busy himself with his books. When Nance, or 
Billy, or Jim came up to the Roost and made 
merry with Mrs. Foss in the kitchen, he had 
watched the boy join with them for awhile, and 
then quietly disappear, leaving the others to their 
'fun. Oftenest, he found him on the rug in his 
den before the fire, apparently in deep thought. 
Anstey had never questioned him as to what 
might be the cause of this — but he had seen a 
fine light in the boy’s eyes and a wistful look on 
his face when he read with him the tales of 
prowess of the Knights of the Round Table. He 
determined to sound him sometime when the 
opportunity presented. 

It had come now, he felt sure. 

“ A penny for your thoughts, Miffins,” he said, 
pleasantly, one night when Miffins had been 
silent for a full half-hour, staring into the fire 
as if he saw nothing of its dancing light, so 
moody was his look. 

The boy looked up, — but Anstey was smoking 


242 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


tranquilly, his hands under his head, gazing up 
into the fantastic network of branch and bough 
above him, — then he looked back into the fire. 

Are there many fellows in New York like 
me? ” he asked, in a low voice. 

Anstey took the pipe from his mouth. “ Well, 
no, very few, I think. They don’t take to books 
as you do.” 

“ I didn’t mean that, I meant like me — you 
know; like this here.” He indicated his shrunken 
leg. 

Oh, yes, — in a large city there must be.” 

‘‘ There don’t seem to be any up here.” 

‘‘ Well, no. I’ve noticed that myself.” 

‘‘ What do the fellows do in the city that are 
like me?” 

“ That’s a poser, Miffins. I don’t know.” 

“ You don’t see them round much? ” 

‘‘ Well, no, can’t say that I do.” 

“ And you don’t see ’em in the country ? ” 

‘‘ No.” 

Well, where are they? ” 

John Anstey waited a moment before he spoke ; 
he thought he was beginning to get the drift of 
the boy’s thought; still, he was not sure. 

“ Well, Miffins, I take it for granted they are 
fighting in the ranks with the rest of us — I know 
of one in Yale, and Spikes is in the office, and 
you are here. That is the extent of my acquaint- 


IN CAMP 


243 

ance with fellows that are handicapped as you 
are.’’ 

“ Handicapped ! ” Miffins repeated in a scornful 
voice — ‘‘ handicapped and leg-capped and every 
other capped. You know yourself, Mr. Anstey,” 
— he turned almost fiercely upon John, who was 
knocking the ashes out of his pipe, preparatory to 
refilling, for he allowed himself two while in 
camp, — “it ain’t no use to try to fight in the ranks 
with a twisted leg and a screwed back ! I’m going 
to give it up.” 

“ And be a coward. Well, that’s one way of 
looking at it,” said Anstey, quietly. “ But I 
never saw it in that light.” 

“ Of course you can’t, because you ain’t me. 
It makes me mad to see the fellows play hockey 
and toboggan, and it makes me madder to see 
you start off for your ‘ sprint,’ and I don’t know 
what I’m mad at either; it keeps me mad all the 
time. I heard Mr. Foss call me once a ‘ half a 
boy,’ and I vowed then I’d make him take that 
back sometime, but there ain’t any use. I’ll be 
stumpy all my life and — and — I wish I was 
dead!” 

For answer Anstey drew his little worn copy 
of old Malory from his pocket, and read of Sir 
Galahad, his favorite knight, and his deeds of 
prowess. 

When he had finished, Miffins lifted his head 


244 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


and looked at him as if he were going to speak — 
then looked again into the fire without a word. 

“ There is one thing, Miffins ; handicapped, or 
leg-capped, as you say, you’re bound to be a man, 
and I can’t see but what you’ve got to make your 
fight like other men; there’s Sir Galahad now — ” 
‘‘ What’s the use of talking about Sir Galahad ? 
I can’t do great things the way he did ! ” 

“ I know you can’t do them in the way he did 
them — but you may be able to do them, just the 
same, in your way. 

I don’t know that I can make it plain to you 
— but if I speak about myself, you may see into 
it a bit. When I left college I hadn’t decided 
upon anything ; my father was rich, I had plenty 
of my own. I’d had everything an American boy 
can have, and we have more than boys of any 
other country. I didn’t want to be a doctor, nor 
a minister, nor a lawyer, nor a merchant. I hadn’t 
anything to push me into any kind of work, for 
my three meals a day were always there, and 
nobody to support. I suppose you think that’s a 
soft place for a man twenty-three years old to be 
in — but I can tell you it makes any man that 
is a man feel pretty blue at times. You don’t 
know anything of that sort of ‘ blue devils,’ for 
all you have just wished you were dead ! To get 
up in the morning and to know that every earthly 
thing is provided for you, to dress and get out — 


IN CAMP 


245 


somewhere — to see a lot of men about you 
who are lucky enough to be so born as to have 
to work — I don’t care whether it’s a truck- 
driver, or hod-carrier, or a minister, or a merchant 
— and to know you can’t get into their place, no 
matter what you do, — it’s enough to drive a 
man mad sometimes.” Anstey paused. He was 
reticent about himself as a rule, and the breaking 
of it even with this boy was not easy. 

He pulled away at his pipe for a few minutes, 
wondering if Miffins would ask a question. But 
the boy was still looking into the fire, so he went 
on : 

“ I’ve known the time I’d have been glad to 
exchange places with you in Park Row.” Mif- 
fins looked up in amazement. Anstey nodded. 

‘‘ Yes, I got all off the track, you see, not hav- 
ing anything to do. One day, five years ago, just 
about this time it was, I went into Trinity — you 
know it — to hear Phillips Brooks — that’s the 
photograph on the wall in the den — ” Anstey 
interrupted himself here. ‘‘ Some day, Miffins, 
I hope, a good, great man will cross your path 
as that man crossed mine — a man whom you 
can love and reverence, and who stirs your heart 
as this air quickens your blood and makes you 
strong to work.” (Miffins had his own thoughts 
just at this moment.) ‘‘That’s the way the 
college men looked on Doctor Brooks. On that 


246 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


day, I sat down feeling pretty blue, and he gave 
us such a talk that I — well, I went to work the 
next day. Td been blind, that’s all there is 
about it; and my work lay right around me, and 
I hadn’t seen it.” 

What was it ? ” asked Miffins. 

“ I think I won’t tell you that just now — it 
can wait. Only, I went into it heart and soul, 
and just as I got ready to do what I thought 
would help all round — I was told to stop it, and 
fight — for, you know what. But the queer part 
is, that since I recovered my eyesight, that day 
five years ago, I find work wherever I look — 
and I couldn’t be idle again if I wanted to. 

“ Now, the trouble is with you, you’re blind, 
too ; but some day you’ll see, and then there won’t 
be any more wishing you were dead, because 
you’ll want so much to live, as I do.” 

But what can I do ? ” persisted Miffins. 

‘‘ Well, for one thing, you’re not brain-capped, 
say what you will. You can make your living 
easily by your brains, and if you handle your- 
self right, — get yourself into good training, you 
know, — you’ll be first at the goal, sure.” 

“ Think so ? ” asked Miffins, eagerly. 

“ I know it,” said John, emphatically. “ Here, 
stir up that fire, will you, at your end? It’s get- 
ting shivery, and time to turn in. You know 
we’re to be up for all night to-morrow — Great 
Scott ! What’s the matter with the dogs ! ” 


IN CAMP 


247 


Siegfried and Freya, with Fidget in tow, had 
been off for their usual evening ramble in the 
woods and across the pasture, nosing about wood- 
chuck holes, scratching at a rabbit-burrow, stir- 
ring up a wood-pussy now and then to their keen 
regret. 

Generally all three came bounding into camp 
with every evidence of having had a lark. But 
to-night they came creeping in almost on their 
bellies; shivering and whining, they crawled up 
to Anstey and Miffins and cowered trembling 
close beside them. Fear — deadly fear — was 
evident in every movement. 

Anstey reached instinctively for his gun, and 
gave the other to Miffins. 

“ Stay with the dogs, Miffins. I’ll not go far, 
but something’s up.” He came back in about 
ten minutes. 

“ I can’t understand it,” he exclaimed. “ There 
isn’t a sound to be heard but the crackling of the 
fires, nor a track but the dogs’ to be found. They 
act as if they had seen spooks. We’ll have to 
protect them to-night. We’ll build up the fires 
and stoke till daylight.” 

They built up the three fires, left the wide 
door of the sugar-house open, and turned in. 
The dogs were not content to lie at their feet, 
but crept up farther and farther toward the faces 
of the two, until the soft heads lay beside the 


248 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


tam-o’-shanters. Anstey lay awake with his ear- 
drums strained to bursting until the first streak 
of light in the east. And Jacob found them asleep 
when he came up at half-past seven, and guyed 
them unmercifully on their powers of endurance. 

There had been an enormous flow of sap the 
last two days, and it required night work to 
handle it. All day they worked, bringing in 
the sap and boiling it down. As darkness fell, 
Jacob began to look anxious. 

I hain’t hired in no extra hand this year coz 
I thought there’d be er plenty, seein’ ez you of- 
fered,” he said to John, “ but,” pointing to the 
vats filled with unboiled sap, I don’t see my 
way out this time. It’ll mean a loss of nigh 
onter a hundred dollars, if I can’t use that sap, 
’n’ ther’z more’n seventy pails in the woods now.” 

It was past six and Jacob was hungry, and 
when he was hungry he was apt to be a little 
disheartened. John, knowing this, said: 

“ You’ve worked all day like a dray-horse, Mr. 
Foss, and there you stand with the yoke still 
on your neck. Here, take it off and sit down 
on this buffalo-robe for awhile. I’ll make the 
coffee, and I’m sure Mrs. Foss has something 
good in that pail that she sent up.” 

Jacob’s face brightened. 

Guess er cup er coffee would go ’bout ter 
the right spot. I ain’t so young ez I wuz when 


IN CAMP 


249 

them trees wuz leetle more’n saplin’s. Hark! 
What them dogs barkin’ at?” 

Mingled with the joyful barking of the dogs, 
far down the hillside could be heard faint shouts 
and calls. Nearer and nearer the sounds drew — 
laughter and merry chatter were distinguishable. 
Then a call : 

“ Hallo, there in camp I ” 

The hills reechoed, “ Hallo-lo — ” 

Anstey let loose a genuine Yale yell, and Mif- 
fins was not behindhand in exercising the full 
power of his newsboy’s lungs. 

Soon the flare of pine torches and the twinkle 
of lanterns were visible, and the merry crowd that 
carried them. The whole school had come up to 
help Jacob with his Herculean task and have 
some fun as well. Three of the stoutest — Jim 
and Seth and the oldest boy in school — were 
drawing Martha Foss on a wood-sled, and two 
more tugged away, for the snow lay in patches 
only, at another sled, well-piled with tin pails, 
pans, and boxes. Barzy had been over to the 
Roost early, and Martha had confided to him 
Jacob’s burden in regard to getting in the sap. 
Barzy had offered to come over for chores in the 
evening, and meanwhile had spread Jacob’s di- 
lemma in the village. Nance and Jim had done 
the rest. 

Jacob’s face fairly beamed with delight. 


250 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Job’s rooster, marm ! You ain’t been up here 
a-sugarin’ sence you wuz Nance’s age, ’n’ come 
with me — hey ? ” And then and there he 
helped her from the sled with all the gallantry 
of his youth, and gave her a kiss before them all. 

Martha’s pink cheeks burned rose-red : 

“ I declare for’t, father, ef I’d er known you 
wuz er goin’ ter act like a boy. I’d stayed to 
home.” 

“No, yer wouldn’t, marm, no, yer wouldn’t; 
I know yer better ! Now let’s see what yer’ve got 
fer supper. It came jest in the nick er time. 
T’other pail looked kinder skinchin’ fer three, ’n’ 
I wuz beginnin’ ter feel er leetle mite down. I 
say, all on you young folks, three cheers fer 
Martha Foss ’n’ the fodder!” Jacob threw up 
his cap like a boy. 

How the woods rang and the hills echoed to 
the rousing three times three! 

Martha had brought up the coffee ready made 
in a fifteen-gallon milk-can, and Mififins let it 
come to a boil in one of the smaller sap-kettles. 
The squash and pumpkin pies he heated on the 
flat slabs which kept hot all day among the embers 
and stones. Such a feast as they had! The 
whole party sat about on logs, or on the floor 
of the sugar-house, and held their tin cups of 
smoking coffee in one hand, and doughnuts and 
cheese, or pie and cheese, or cookies and cheese. 


IN CAMP 


251 


or cheese and gingerbread, in the other, enjoying 
their keen appetites, the crisp air, and the glorious 
warmth of the blazing fires. 

“ Now, all ban’s to work! ” cried Jacob, as the 
tin cups rattled into the milk-can, and the few 
reminants of pie and doughnuts were flung to 
the dogs. For the next two hours the woods 
rang with merry voices, and the shadows danced 
around the tree-trunks and high overhead among 
the branches, and boys and girls sped hither and 
thither, themselves like dancing shadows, in and 
around the sugar-house. 

It looked like a witches’ trysting-ground. The 
huge caldrons swung over the roaring fires — 
the girls with long, black ladles skimming and 
stirring. Now and then, a little shriek from one 
or another rose above the voices, as the hot syrup 
boiled over the edge and hissed among the flames, 
before the girls could pour in the cold sap. 

The boys, under Jacob and Anstey as captains, 
formed into companies to bring in the sap-pails 
from the woods, one of each squad bearing a large 
pine-torch, and flitting with it from tree to tree. 

At last, about ten o’clock, the last sap-bucket 
had been brought in, the fires were in fine blast, 
and the kettles in full swing. The whole party 
formed a semicircle before the fires, and the cry 
went up, A story, Mr. Anstey, a story.” 

“ What shall it be? ” he asked. 


252 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Something like ‘ Treasure Island/ '' said 
Seth, eagerly, and for some reason unknown to 
Seth, the whole school shouted. 

“ Something exciting about the streets of New 
York,’’ said Jim,. 

‘‘ Oh, Mr. Anstey, tell us about the balls and 
parties,” cried two of the older girls, at which 
the boys groaned heavily. 

“ I say, let’s get Mr. Anstey to tell us about 
his hunting in the Rocky Mountains last year,” 
suggested Miffins. 

Hooray ! ” shouted Billy, “ that’s the thing 
— all about bears, an’ gulches, an’ guides, an’ 
cowboys, an’ wolves.” 

I’ll put it ter vote,” said Jacob. ‘‘ All in 
favor of shootin’ big game in the Rockies say 
‘ Aye.’ ” 

A resounding Aye ” was the answer. ‘‘ Con- 
trary minded ? ” Silence. 

'' It’s er vote,” said Jacob. “ Git up steam, 
Mr. Anstey, ’n’ go ahead.” 

‘‘ By the way, have you any bears about here 
now, Mr. Foss? ” John asked the question care- 
lessly. 

“ B’ars! Bless ye, no. Yer won’t see er b’ar 
this side er the peak. The last one was killed 
just er year ago, in that clearin’ jest over the 
summit, the one I p’inted out t’other day.” 

Nancy appeared to be very busy skimming 


IN CAMP 


253 


the third kettle, but lost no word of the stories 
that followed of big horn and grizzly. But,” 
Anstey concluded, after holding the attention of 
his audience for twenty minutes, “ the worst 
thing to encounter is the puma. It lies out 
on a branch, and drops on its prey with the 
swiftness of a thunderbolt. Fve never met one, 
and Fve no desire to. My guide told me of an 
adventure he had in Idaho on the Pacific slope 
of the Rockies. He was literally pounced upon 
by a puma in a tree above him, as a cat pounces 
on a mouse. He escaped by the skin of his teeth, 
but he showed me the mark of the great cat’s 
claws in his shoulders. But I should like to 
trap a bear in Vermont! ” 

Wal, yer won’t git the chance this year. 
We’re too civilized ’roun’ here fer thet sort er 
game ; woodchucks, or a coon, or fox is ’bout all 
we can brag of. — What time’s the jigger cornin’ 
fer yer?” he asked the boys. 

About half-past eleven,” said Jim. 

Wal, then yer’d better be gittin’ ’long toward 
the Roost in ’bout half ’n hour. I’ll stay up here, 
Marthy, ’n’ make er night on it; it’s the last, 
’n’ now we’ve got jest time fer sugarin’ off a 
leetle ’fore yer go. Bring in the snow, boys. 
Marm, yer can tend that kettle over thar.” 

The boys needed no urging. They sought out 
the patches of snow, and brought in a half-dozen 


254 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


sap-pails full. They gathered about Nancy, who, 
as mistress of ceremonies, was in her element. 
She tested the syrup, and, dipping up a small 
ladleful at a time, poured it out upon the snow 
that was heaped in the pails. It cooled in a few 
seconds, and then fingers and mouths worked 
together in a silence that was broken only by 
satisfied ‘‘Ohs!” and “Ahs!” 

John wrote Burden that it was food fit for the 
gods, and, waxing eloquent over the remem- 
brance of the saccharine delicacy, termed it the 
“ chilled essence of imprisoned summer,” and 
Burden’s mouth watered, as he read, to such an 
extent that he determined to “ sugar off ” with 
Anstey and Jacob Foss the next year. 

After their feast, Martha was packed carefully 
upon the sled, and, with merry good nights, the 
sugar-makers lighted torches and lanterns and 
were off down the wood-road. 

Jacob and John took turns in tending the fires 
and the kettles, and in the morning there was a 
goodly showing for the night’s work. Camp was 
broken that forenoon, and John declared that, so 
soon as settled spring weather should come, he 
should make the sugar-house into a real camp, 
and spend all his nights there during the sum- 
mer. He had formed his plans already for the 
coming season, but kept them to himself. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The Still Hunt 

J UST as soon as the ground settles, we must 
lay out a tennis court back of the school- 
house,” said Anstey to the boys one morning at 
recess, a few days after the “ sugaring-off.” 

Then there are some fine golf courses in the 
back pasture; we must get at those too; and I 
suppose you Rugbyites want to form a football 
eleven? WeVe work enough laid out for us, 
besides two books of Virgil this term.” 

“ WeVe decided to have white sweaters,” said 
Billy, who was an enthusiastic football player in 
prospective, “ and mother said she’d work a bea- 
ver’s tail in brown yarn on the breast of each, for 
we’re going to be called the Beaver Tail Team. 
We’ve chipped in for pads and things. Who’ll 
we challenge first, Mr. Anstey ? ” 

‘‘ Supposing we train awhile, before deciding 
that ? ” replied Anstey, smiling to himself at the 
thought of all the scrimmages and sore elbows 
and barked shins and humiliated half-backs and 
255 


256 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


quarter-backs that must be endured and lived 
through before they could rush another team, 
even of their own size. 

Billy sighed. I can’t wait to begin. I’ve 
been kicking for the last month, and I kicked 
myself clear over the other day trying the drop. 
I’ve read everything you gave me about the 
game, but nothing is so good as Tom Brown. 
Hi! didn’t he go into it, though!” And Billy, 
in the exuberance of his joy, let fly one leg, for- 
getful of Seth, who was hovering too near just 
at that moment, intent upon Billy’s words. 

Away went Seth over backward, much to 
Billy’s amazement and the enjoyment of the 
school. 

A touch-down, a touch-down ! ” shouted the 
boys, as Seth was picking himself up, and down 
they went upon the human ball, for so fat was 
Seth that he rolled like a pincushion. 

“ Easy, boys, easy ! ” shouted Anstey. “ Let 
him up to breathe.” And the boys desisted, help- 
ing Seth to his feet, who looked none the worse 
for the scrimmage. 

‘‘ You’ll make a first-class centre,” said Anstey 
to Seth. And Seth felt ennobled from that mo- 
ment, and almost showed the arrogance of his 
pride to the smaller boys. 

Who’ll come up with me into the back pas- 
ture to look over the golf courses this afternoon ? ” 


THE STILL HUNT 


257 


‘‘ I, I/’ shouted one and all, glad of a few 
extra hours with the man to whom they looked 
as their leader in all that is dear to a boy’s heart. 

They had been staking out the putting green 
and tees, each boy taking upon himself the making 
of a good one so soon as the ground was fit to 
work, and were over by the group of pines, when 
suddenly Jim cried out, “ Look there, Mr. An- 
stey ! ” pointing at the same time to the corner 
near the wood-lot, where Jacob usually climbed 
the wall. The group was silent through sheer 
amazement. Over the wall leaped the three dogs, 
running as if for their lives. Anstey called to 
them, and whistled, but he might as well have 
commanded the wind. On they sped across the 
pasture homewards, and were out of sight in a 
few seconds. Before they could recover from 
their astonishment another figure was seen to 
leap the wall lightly. It was Nance! 

She flew rather than ran. This was too much 
for man and boys. Without word of halloo, they 
raced down the slope and across the hollow to 
intercept her. In a moment she saw them, and 
turned to them. She met them breathless, nor 
could she speak for full a minute. She was trem- 
bling, too. 

‘‘What is it, Nancy?” said Anstey, gently. 
“ What has frightened you so? We can protect 
you now.” 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


258 

The girl shook her head. All the color had 
left her face. She pointed to the woods. ‘‘ Over 
there it was ! ” she stammered, her teeth 
chattering. 

“ What was, Nancy? ’’ 

“ The thing.’^ 

‘‘ What was it like ? said Anstey, wondering 
what the girl could have seen to quench all the 
brave light in her eyes. 

“ Oh, I can’t tell you — oh, do come home as 
quick as we can — it’ll come after us — oh, do 
come, do ! ” She pulled at his arm, and the boys, 
a good deal upset by Nancy’s evident ‘terror, 
turned to Anstey for orders. 

‘‘ You go down to Mr. Foss’s with Nancy, Jim 
and Seth, and the rest of us will go up into 
the woods to investigate. Bring up the guns, 
Jim, when you come back.” 

But poor Nancy broke down into hysterical 
crying, and sobbed and clung so, first to Anstey, 
then to Jim and Seth, that they were nonplussed. 

The boys, who hated to see a girl like Nance 
cry, began to look uneasy. 

Anstey took matters into his own hands. 

We’ll all go down to the house, and when 
Nancy feels better, she will tell us what she saw.” 

“ Oh, come quick,” sobbed Nancy. “ It was — 
was crunching the lamb, and it was all bloody.” 

They asked no more questions then, but hur- 
ried down to the Roost. 


THE STILL HUNT 


259 


Evidently the girl had had a terrible fright, 
and Martha Foss was startled to see her look 
as she did. When she was calmer, she went 
into Anstey’s room, where he and the boys were 
waiting to hear her story. 

“ Uncle Reuben missed a sheep two or three 
days ago, and he has been trying to find it. He 
thought it had got out under one of the bars of 
the fold — he put them out there last week, the 
sun was so warm and the snow gone. This after- 
noon, I went over to Aunt Liscom’s to carry her 
some embroidery silk she had asked me to buy 
in the village, and I found Uncle Reuben all upset 
because he hadn’t found the sheep, and had just 
missed a lamb. I told him I would come over 
cross-lots and see if I could get any trace of it. 
Just as I came through the clump of spruce and 
hemlocks the other side of the woods, Siegfried 
and Frey a and Fidget came bounding to meet 
me, and I knew you must be somewhere near. 
Just as we came into the clearing, all at once 
the dogs lay right down . at my feet, whining 
and trembling. I didn’t know what to make of 
it to see them act so. I looked down at them, 
and there in a little patch of snow were some huge 
tracks and some blood. Then I heard a tearing 
and crunching over in the spruces. I was dread- 
fully frightened, and only looked round once 
before I ran, but I saw just as plain as could 


26 o 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


be a great yellow thing tearing up that little lamb. 
Oh, it made me sick ! And when I started to run, 
the dogs ran, too, as if for dear life, and — and 
that’s all!” 

“ Quite enough for one day’s experience, 
Nancy. We’ll have to look this matter up.” 

By cracky I ” cried Seth, excitedly, “ I bet 
it’s Tige! Two years ago, you remember, Mrs. 
Foss, he killed a sheep over the mountain, an’ the 
deacon had ter pay twenty-five dollars to get 
clear. He said he’d answer fer him, an’ he chains 
him up nights, but he’s loose days. Did yer say 
he was yaller, Nance? ” 

Yes, a tawny yellow.” 

“ That’s him,” cried Seth. There ain’t no 
trustin’ a mastiff if he gits the taste er blood — 
is there, Mr. Anstey ? ” 

‘‘ No — you never can tell ; all goes right for 
a time, then the first thing you know they end 
by chewing a man up. I had one once, that in a 
nasty fit killed a pet setter of mine, and I’ve never 
wanted to have anything to do with the breed 
since. I shouldn’t wonder if you had solved the 
mystery, Seth — but, after all, it doesn’t account 
for the dogs’ fright. We’ll look into the affair 
to-morrow. It’s better for you to tell the deacon, 
Seth, and keep the dog chained till we find' out. 
It’s getting too late to do much now. I’ll go 
home with you, Nancy.” 


THE STILL HUNT 


261 


The girl looked up with a grateful smile. 
“ Let’s go before dark, please.” 

I’m ready when you are.” 

Miffins had not been with the boys in the back 
pasture; he had driven down to Barnet with 
Jacob for “ feed.” At supper Martha told 
Nancy’s adventure, and John supplemented 
details. 

‘‘ Sho ! ” said Jacob, “ it ud turned my stom- 
ach ter see sech er sight, let alone a delicate gal’s. 
Guess the deacon’ll hev ter pay the fiddler this 
time — fer we ain’t goin’ ter stan’ it. Ef the 
critter hez got the taste er blood, there ain’t no 
tellin’ what’ll be the outcome. He’s bigger’n er 
man, ’n’ nobody wants ter feel him at his throat. 
He’ll hev ter be shot — ’n’ mighty quick too. 
The critter hez hed one full meal, but, in case 
he’s sneakin’ roun’. I’ll shut up the sheep ter- 
night under the barn, ’n’ let ’em out ter-morrer 
mornin’.” 

The dogs had kept in the house ever since their 
return, nor could anything induce them to take 
their evening constitutional. 

‘‘ Thet beats all,” said Jacob. 

“ Good dogs know a thing or two sometimes 
that we don’t,” said Anstey, “ so I won’t force 
them out.” 

But neither would they go outside the wood- 
shed the next morning. It puzzled Anstey. 


262 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


'' ril tell you what, Mr. Foss, after school well 
ferret out this mystery; something’s wrong 
somewhere.” 

“ All right,” said Jacob, as he drove Anstey 
and Miffins down to school, for the snow had 
gone and the roads were running water. 

But school was not quite over when Jacob 
made his appearance with the jigger on wheels. 

He was in a high state of excitement, as John 
saw when he drove up to the door. 

One er my best sheep’s gone ! ” he cried, ’n’ 
Barzy says one er his’n went last night. I’m er 
goin’ down ter the village ter git ez many men ez 
hez shot-guns, or rifles, ter come up, ’n’ track the 
durned critter ’n’ kill him. I’ll call fer yer on 
my way back.” And off he drove, lashing the 
horses into a gallop. 

The school was broken up in less time than 
it takes to tell. Jim Leonard and three of the 
oldest boys, who were good shots, ran home to 
ask permission to join the men. Seth had had 
no opportunity to tell Jacob that it wasn’t the 
mastiff, for the dog had been with the deacon 
over the mountain ” all the afternoon. So the 
mystery remained unexplained. 

Martha was watching anxiously at the door 
as the jigger loaded with men and boys came up 
the hill. Some were walking up, the muzzles of 
their guns to the earth. In all there were twenty- 
eight, including the three boys. 


THE STILL HUNT 


263 


Oh, do let me go,” pleaded Miffins of Jacob 
and Anstey. “ I won’t be in the way. I’ll stay 
up by the pines while you all do the tramping, and 
I can signal if I see anything. You know I’m a 
good shot, now. Mr. Anstey, let me go just this 
once. I’ll never get another chance to see a real 
hunt!” 

Jacob and Anstey looked at each other, and 
they hadn’t the heart to say “ No,” although 
their judgment was against it. 

“ Wal, sonny, I like yer pluck, ’n’ ef Mr. An- 
stey says ' yes,’ yer may go. Now, marm, yer 
can keep still ; I know how yer feel — but this is 
stiff work, ’n’ women can’t hev their say alius.” 

“ Here, Miffins, take this whistle — it’s a 
policeman’s signal — you’ve heard them before. 
The sound will carry well, and you can signal 
if anything should turn up. I don’t like leaving 
you up there though,” he added, as if in doubt 
as to the wisdom of his decision. 

Oh, I’ll take care of myself. I’ll stay right 
by the pines. It’s only I want to see the sport.” 

The men agreed to divide their number into 
squads of four each — that made seven in all — 
and close in from all sides, beating in the crea- 
ture, whatever it might be, from all sides. They 
reckoned on a circle with a diameter of two miles, 
Reuben’s house, the Roost, and Barzy’s house, 
being the apexes of an inscribed triangle. 


264 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


They separated, leaving Miffins at the group 
of pines. The dogs they left at home. 

The patch of snow in which Nancy had seen 
the tracks had disappeared, and there was not 
a trace of the lamb but a tuft or two of wool 
caught on the spruces. No mark of any beast 
was there — the ground having dried well at 
that height — no lair — nothing to indicate the 
presence of any animal. 

The men had appointed three o’clock as the 
time when they all were to start in toward 
Reuben’s wood - lot, beating underbrush and 
woods as they gradually narrowed the circumfer- 
ence of the circle. 

Miffins waited impatiently for the appearance 
of some one or something. The crows flew over 
by threes, flapping their heavy wings, and cawing 
loudly. A squirrel chattered in a branch above 
him. Otherwise there was not a sound. Once 
a hen-hawk circled majestically far up in the 
blue deeps. 

Miffins was the proud possessor of a rifle, a 
present from Anstey. It was loaded now, and 
Miffins was leaning on the gun-stock, wishing 
something would happen, when his eye caught 
a bit of faded green just over the fence near the 
brakes where Nancy used to hide. He went to 
the five-barred gate and looked more closely. It 
was the girl’s green and white checked gingham 


THE STILL HUNT 


265 

sunbonnet that had lain bleaching and rotting 
under the winter snows. Miffins laughed to him- 
self. He would rescue it and present it to Nancy, 
in memoriam.” So he thought as he lay flat 
and crept under the lower bar, dragging his gun 
and crutch after him. 

But, before he could rise, a strange sound came 
to his ear — in fact, it seemed almost in his ear. 
A heavy breathing — then something like the 
exaggerated purring of a cat. It ceased, and 
Miflins, scarce breathing, lay low and listened. 
Soon there was a slight movement in the hemlock 
bush just be3^ond the mass of dead, snow-soaked 
brakes. Then again the deep purr. There was 
a thin place among the lower branches, and Mif- 
fins, raising himself on his elbows, could look 
through. The western sun shone into the nook 
which was open toward Reuben’s wood-lot, and 
Miflins saw within fifteen feet of him a huge 
panther stretched at ease, like a contented cat, 
basking in the warmth of the sun. 

That one look told Miffins what was before 
him. He had seen too many colored prints of 
the animal in xAnstey’s natural history books not 
to recognize it at the first glance. 

The boy’s heart beat somewhere in his throat 
and ears for a minute. He saw nothing — every- 
thing blurred before his eyes. When his vision 
cleared, his mind cleared, too. There was but 


266 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


one thing to be done, — wait till he heard or saw 
the men coming from the woods, then fire at the 
beast, hoping he would spring from his lair at the 
shot, and so give the men warning of their 
danger and a chance to shoot in the clearing. The 
brute’s belly was evidently full. 

Noiselessly he drew his gun into position, still 
lying flat, not daring to move. He aimed and 
waited — how long he never knew; years it 
seemed to him. 

Finally, just as the last beams of the sun 
were leaving the lair, Miffins heard a faint hal- 
loo,” answered by another. A moment, and he 
heard them calling from all quarters. They were 
coming. What if they shouldn’t be looking! 
What if the rifle missed fire! 

The panther, too, had heard the unwonted 
sounds and turned over, stretching his tawny 
limbs. Then he rose, alert — scenting danger at 
last. 

Oh, if the men would only come in sight ! Mif- 
fins raised the rifle, taking sure aim again be- 
tween shoulder and rib. He dared not turn to 
see if the men were over, for the beast looked 
about to crouch for a spring — a shot rang out ; 
— with a tremendous bound the panther cleared 
the underbrush and landed in the opening. The 
men, some of whom were over, some on the wall, 
and some on the edge of the woods, startled by 


THE STILL HUNT 


267 


the shot, looked simultaneously in the direction 
of the sound, and saw the great creature leap into 
the open. It was the work of a few seconds. 
Scarcely had the creature landed on his feet, 
when shot after shot found its way to the spot. 
Some plowed the ground on either side of Miffins. 
One struck the lower bar of the gate, embedding 
itself there. For a few seconds, Miffins was as 
much under fire as the panther, who, maddened 
with his wounds, snarled and hissed and bounded 
forward in great leaps, but each time more feebly, 
until, after three hundred feet of misery, the 
head dropped, and the huge body rolled over, 
pierced in every vital organ. 

A shout went up that was heard at Reuben’s 
and the Roost by the anxious watchers. 

Then in the second’s silence that followed, a 
voice broke in, — Anstey’s, — “ Good God, the 
boy ! ” and the men’s faces blanched with a great 
fear, and their strong limbs shook. Between 
twenty-eight bullets and a panther, could a boy 
live ? 

For a minute Anstey had no strength to move 
or call, and Jacob sat down shaking pitiably. But 
as Anstey started to run, the men cried out with 
a great cry, for over the fence beyond the pines 
something was waving — it was a dilapidated 
sunbonnet on the end of a gun. Again Anstey’s 
strength gave out for a second — and the tears 


268 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


of thankfulness rolled down Jacob’s cheeks. As 
if impelled by one desire, the men and boys, for- 
getful of the great beast that lay motionless in 
the hollow, dashed across the pasture to the spot. 

John reached him first. 

“ All right, Mifiins ? ” he asked, anxiously. 

“ All right, sir,” answered the boy, joyfully. 
The men and boys were around him in an instant. 

Tell us all about it,” — and Mifiins told of 
the long watch, his decision, and the signal-shot. 

‘‘ If I only hit ! ” he exclaimed ; “ he bounded 
so quick I couldn’t tell.” 

You hit! you hit! ” cried the boys. “ There’s 
blood all about where he landed.” 

The men improvised a stretcher of birch sap- 
lings and got the huge beast upon it. Mifiins 
was placed on one end, and the triumphal pro- 
cession amid excited talk and shouts of victory 
entered the yard of the Roost and deposited the 
carcass on the barn floor. 

The boys ran down to announce the feat to 
the villagers, and until eight o’clock there was 
a stream of farm wagons filled with men, 
women, and children filing up the hill to view 
the panther on the barn floor. Seven feet, 
from nose to tip of tail, weight one hundred and 
eighty-two pounds, — a regular old aboriginal of 
the primeval forest of the Green Mountains. 

It has always remained a mystery whence he 








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THE STILL HUNT 


269 


came. When the beast was skinned, it was found 
that Miffins’s rifle-ball had pierced the jugular 
vein. 

That night, as Miffins lay on the rug before the 
fire in Anstey’s room, he felt happier than ever 
before in his life of fourteen years; for he had 
done a brave deed — an act of prowess, for all 
he was cripple and half a boy.” 

“ What about Sir Galahad’s deeds, now, Mif- 
fins ? ” said Anstey, smiling down at the boy. 

Miffins looked up gratefully. He knew John 
Anstey had read his thought, and he felt 
knighted. 

Jacob put both hands on his shoulders when 
the boy went to bid him good-night, and looked 
long into his face. 

“ Yer give me a turn ter-day, sonny, I sha’n’t 
git over fer one while — but I’m proud on ye — 
proud on ye; yer gittin’ ter be a man,” and he 
wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 

Martha Foss stole into the bedroom after Mif- 
fins was in bed, and tucked the coverlet about him. 
Then she bent over to kiss him. Mother’s glad 
her boy is safe and sound to-night,” she said, and 
Miffins knew he was her boy ” from that time 
forth. 

The beautiful skin was stuffed, and the panther 
stands in the Capitol to-day as witness to the 
truth of a still-hunt among the peaceful Green 
Hills of Vermont. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Summer Plans 

M r. ANSTEY senior and Burden, having 
had glowing accounts of the still-hunt, 
could endure it no longer. Without invitation, 
they put themselves aboard the north-bound 
train, and telegraphed from Windsor they were 
coming. 

Jacob was at Hurdyville when the stage from 
Barnet came in, bringing the telegram and the 
two travellers. 

We’ll put up at the inn, Mr. Foss,” said Mr. 
Anstey, “ and to-morrow we’ll be up bright and 
early to see that boy of mine. The rascal — 
panther hunts and sugaring-off, and every sort 
of entertainment that we city men can’t get! 
We’ve borne it about as long as we can. Now 
we’re going to see for ourselves ! ” 

Thet’s right, thet’s right,” laughed Jacob, 
‘"keep ’n eye on him, he ain’t too old yit. But 
yer ain’t er goin’ inter no tavern so long ez the 
Roost’s kitchen door stands wide open. Marthy’d 
270 


SUMMER PLANS 


271 


never git over it ef I listened ter any sech thing. 
Ther’s room ’n’ ter spare. Git right in here with 
me, ’n’ we’ll be ter home by eight. Yer set 
erlong er me, sir, ’n’ Mr. Burden can set back 
with Miffins. Hud up, Eth ! ” 

“ How’s my boy ? ” was the father’s first ear- 
nest inquiry, as they drove off. 

Now Jacob had never been told the true reason 
for John’s coming, so he answered the father 
accordingly. 

‘‘Tough ez ’n ox — hale ’n’ hearty; he can 
fell more trees ’n’ chop more wood ’n any man 
of his years round here.” 

The father’s heart rejoiced. 

“ I’ve wanted to come up many a time these 
last two months. I’ve been hungry for a sight 
of him. But every time I wrote John would send 
word, ‘ Not yet, father, wait till spring.’ He 
knows my gouty trouble, and insisted the cold 
was too severe, — thirty-five below, he tells us, 
at times.” 

“ Yes, it’s hung ’round the cipher ’bout all 
Janooary ’n’ Feb’ry. Guess ’twuz jest ez well 
yer didn’t come then. He’s er great han’ fer air. 
Sleeps with all his winders open when it’s fifteen 
below. Beats all, though, how he thrives on’t.” 

Burden and Miffins were deep in football mys- 
teries as they drove into the yard. 

“ Aren’t you a little late, Mr. Foss ? ” called 


272 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


John from the porch. “ Why, father ! Halloo, 
old fellow’' (to Burden), and he was wringing 
his father’s hand with both his, while Burden was 
thumping him on the back in his delight at seeing 
him again. All well with mother ? ” he said, 
anxiously. 

‘‘ All well, my boy,” replied his father, with 
suspicious moisture in his eyes. “ But when a 
young fellow sneaks out of New York in Novem- 
ber, and expresses no particular desire to see his 
beloved parents as month after month passes — 
it’s time to get suspicious; so I’ve come up to 
see what is the attraction, and brought Burden 
as a witness.” 

Any pretty girls in the immediate neighbor- 
hood, Johnny?” said Burden. 

John laughed. Find out for yourself. Bur- 
den. Come in now and meet Mrs. Foss.” 

Martha was equal to the occasion, although 
wild visions of the chaotic state of her one “ spare 
chamber ” disturbed her wonted serenity just a 
little. But Anstey settled it all for her. 

‘‘ Mr. Burden will turn in with me, Mrs. Foss ; 
my cot has been waiting for this ; we’ll put father 
into Miffins’s room, — it is fine and warm for his 
gout, — and we’ll bundle Miffins into the spare 
bed up-stairs.” 

I never see sech a man,” said Martha, to 
John’s father. 


SUMMER PLANS 


273 


“ His mother and I think there are few such,” 
he replied, quietly, his eyes beaming upon his 
son, who was playing host most delightfully. 
“ Where’s your den, John? ” 

“ In here ; come along. Burden, till supper’s 
ready.” 

When the two men saw the room, they sat 
down solidly and declared they would not leave 

it- 

“ I’ll not stir from this place till Mrs. Foss 
provides just such another for me, Anstey. You 
always had the luck in college, and it’s followed 
you up.” 

The dogs were wild with joy over Mr. Anstey 
senior; the fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, 
and the three men all talked at once in their de- 
light at being together again. Martha’s ample 
supper was topped off with pancakes, the thick- 
ness of a knife-blade and the lightness of down, 
swimming in the noted “ first run ” of the deli- 
cious maple-syrup. Burden ate them as if on 
a wager. 

I can’t stop, Mrs. Foss ! ” he exclaimed. ‘‘ If 
you can only keep right on ! ” And Martha got 
into such a gale of laughter when John began 
to keep tally of his friend’s gastronomic prowess, 
that she failed to flip ” the pancakes properly, 
and two or three landed on the floor. 

“ Two dozen and three ! ” cried Anstey. “ Call 


2 74 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


time, do, father, or there’ll be trouble. I’ll punch 
him if he eats another — and, two dozen and 
four ! For heaven’s sake, let up. Burden ! ” 

And Burden let up, not for want of appetite, 
but for lack of capacity. 

The three talked into the small hours of the 
night, and Anstey laid his plans before his father 
and Burden for approval. 

“ I’ve been wishing, father, we might all be 
together up here for a few months and live a 
simpler life than that to which we are accustomed. 
I don’t know how mother’ll take to it — ” 

His father interrupted him : 

“ Your mother will take it just as you take 
it, John, and I don’t deny I’m beginning to look 
forward to it myself.” He drew a long breath. 
“ A man slips off the shackles of a city-bound 
life up here, and in association with such lovable, 
unspoiled people as that couple in the other room.” 

“ I’m glad you look at it that way, father. The 
winter has done me no end of good, and now 
I want some of you to share the pleasure with 
me.” 

I’ll answer for your mother, John. What do 
you say. Burden ? ” 

“ I’m only waiting for the chance to come, 
sir. John proposes to enlarge the sugar-house 
a little and make it a bit more permanent, and 
I know May will be pleased enough to get an 
invitation to these high latitudes.” 


SUMMER PLANS 


275 

“ Well, if May would come, your mother 
would be contented enough, John.” 

Burden’s pretty sister had occupied a good 
many of John’s thoughts, before the doctor’s 
decision. He looked up frankly now. 

“If May could come. Burden, I should feel all 
right about mother.” 

“ She’ll jump at the chance,” replied Burden, 
and it was well for that young man that his 
dignified sister did not hear him give her away 
in that fashion. 

John smiled to himself. “ She’s fond of rid- 
ing? ” he said. 

“ You know that as well as I do, old man,” 
was the blunt brother’s response. “ Can we get 
good saddle-horses up here ? ” 

“ It’s a Morgan county,” replied John. “ Mr. 
Foss has three stunners in the paddock. He’s 
going to put them up in the back pasture to- 
morrow — the scene of our famous hunt ; we’ll 
look them over in the morning and take in the 
sugar-house and views on the way. The trouble 
is they’re unbroken. I don’t know as they’ve had 
a halter on; box-stalls, you know, even in this 
region.” 

Burden looked thoughtful. “ I’ve an idea, 
Johnny — ” 

“ Out with it, then ; you’re dangerous if you 
ever keep one to yourself.” 


276 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Stop your chaff and listen to me. I’ve an 
idea that if Mrs. Anstey and May come up, the 
Barnards will want to come too.” 

“ Ho, ho ! ” laughed John. Sits the wind in 
that quarter ? ” 

Not ' sitting,’ Johnny, but shifting, merely 
shifting. Now, where can we stow them all?” 

Anstey and his father laughed at that we; ” 
they saw that Burden had already preempted 
Beaver Tail for the season. 

‘‘ Possibly Mrs. Liscom, just over the summit 
of the mountain, our nearest neighbor, might be 
induced to take them. Mr. Liscom is much better 
this spring, and they have a fine old house up 
there — and no children.” 

The very thing ! ” said Burden, and for the 
next hour he planned what he called the “ summer 
campaign.” 

Early on the morrow, Jacob and Miffins took 
the colts — Bob and Nap and Bet — up into 
the back pasture. 

“ Nap seems ter hev got his sperits back 
agin,” remarked Jacob, as Nap reared, curvetted, 
pranced, and pawed. Miffins was tempted to 
confess, but thought better to let bygones be 
bygones. 

“ Nary one on ’em’s well broke yit, ’n’ I ain’t 
so young ez I wuz,” said Jacob, rather dubiously, 
as Nap showed his heels to the blue sky. 


SUMMER FLANS 


277 


“ Mr. Anstey’s a good horseman — he’s ridden 
a bronco time and again, and a mustang, too; 
p’raps he’ll break one of ’em and Mr. Burden 
another.” 

“ I dunno, — I dunno,” replied Jacob, doubt- 
fully. Them city chaps hez sech confounded 
notions ’bout bosses, thet I’m feared my colts’ll 
resent ’em. They ain’t broncos ’n’ they ain’t 
mustangs; they’re jest clever Morgan critters 
thet ain’t no knowledge of spur ’n’ whip, ’n’ 
they won’t stan’ it.” 

Burden and Anstey were off directly after 
breakfast for a long walk. They took in the 
sugar-house and the colts on their way over to 
Reuben Liscom’s. 

‘‘ By George, John, I’ve never seen the equal 
of that colt!” exclaimed Burden, as Nap flew 
across the hollow to greet them, and nosed his 
pockets ; then, finding nothing, showed his heels, 
and literally waltzed away toward the wood-lot. 

“ Do you think they could be broken for either 
of the girls to ride by the last of June? ” 

“ We can’t risk anything with them,” replied 
John. They’re as gentle as kittens in the stall, 
but one can never tell what a colt will be under 
petticoats. We might try what we can do with 
them this afternoon.” 

I’m with you there, John; my fingers twitch 
to feel the bridle with one of those beauties.” 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


278 

They were praising the colts at dinner, and 
discussing the chances of breaking them easily 
to the saddle. Jacob listened delightedly — for 
praise of his colts was praise of him. 

When the meal was finished, Miffins beckoned 
to Anstey. John followed him into the wood- 
shed. 

“ I don’t believe Nance would care if I told 
now, Mr. Anstey, but those colts are broken, and 
she did it.” 

I don’t understand, Miffins ; a girl couldn’t 
break those creatures; why, even Mr. Burden 
and I look for a tussle, for all they are so gentle.” 

But she has, though,” persisted Miffins. 

And if I can get her up into the back pasture 
this afternoon. I’ll prove it to you.” 

“ How ? ” said John. 

You’ll see,” said Miffins, significantly. 

‘‘ Wouldn’t she mind our being there? ” asked 
Anstey. 

She needn’t know it; besides, if she did, she 
wouldn’t mind. She knows she’s the best horse- 
woman in this county.” 

I’d like to see her ! ” exclaimed Anstey, “ but 
I’m afraid — well, if she gets too daring, we’ll 
be there to see that no harm comes to her.” 

'' Let me fix it, will you ? ” said Miffins, eagerly. 

All right, I can trust you.” 

Then come up this afternoon, sir, you and 


SUMMER PLANS 


279 

Mr. Burden, about three, and hide behind the 
hemlocks near the lair.” 

Miffins asked for the loan of Ethan and the 
light farm wagon. He had heard Nance say 
the day before in school, she was going by way 
of the road to her Aunt Liscom’s that afternoon, 
and he counted upon finding her on the way. 
Nor did he miscalculate. 

“Nance!” he shouted, to the blue-hooded 
figure walking so rapidly up the hill. 

Nancy turned and came toward him. 

“ Why, where did you come from ? ” 

“From home — here, get in; I’ll take you 
up to your uncle’s.” 

“ Oh, but that’s good of you, Miffins. We 
heard last night you had company. Tell me 
about them,” she said, as she sprang in. 

Miffins was only too glad to have so interested 
a listener. He told of Mr. Burden’s appreciation 
of everything on Beaver Tail, the people, the 
Roost, the pancakes; last he spoke of the colts 
and their prospective breaking in. 

Nancy laughed merrily. “ They don’t know 
how well they’re broken, do they? I think we 
could astonish them, don’t you, Miffins ? ” 

“ You could,” said Miffins. “ I say, Nance,” 
he exclaimed, as if a sudden thought had struck 
him. “ Let’s hitch Ethan and see if the colts 
remember th^ir training. I’d give a good deal 
to see you ride again.” 


28 o 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Just what I was longing to do,” cried Nancy, 
gaily. “ I have not been on a horse this winter. 
Have you got anything with you?” 

“ Yes, some maple-sugar and a halter.” 

That’ll do. Perhaps they are a little wild,” 
she added, “ and will need sweetening.” 

Here, where are you going? ” she cried, as 
Miffins prepared to tie up Ethan near the wood- 
lot. “ Drive over to the pines, so you won’t have 
to walk.” 

“ No, I’m going to hitch here,” said the boy, 
decidedly, and Nancy, wondering, said nothing. 

Soon Anstey and Burden, hidden behind the 
hemlocks, heard the clear, sweet voice singing : 

“Come, Nap, Nap, Nap, Napoleon, 

Come get your white potato ; 

Come, Nap, Nap, Nap, Napoleon, 

Come quick whene’er I say so.” 

Nap, picking about near the pines, lifted his 
beautiful head and pricked his ears. Then, with 
a snort and prolonged gentle whinny, he trotted 
to meet her. 

“ I can’t stand this hood, it’s too warm,” said 
Nance, throwing back the blue flannel head-cover- 
ing, and I shall melt in this jacket, exercising 
so.” Off flew the jacket. 

Burden and Anstey watched every one of her 
graceful movements. 


SUMMER PLANS 


281 


“What is she up to, Anstey?” said Burden, 
anxiously. “ She isn’t going to mount that colt, 
is she ? I say, we mustn’t let her,” he whispered, 
excitedly ; “ it’s criminal. I’m going to holler.” 

“Keep still!” said John, peremptorily, clapping 
his hand over Burden’s mouth. “ I’ll risk her 
with Miffins.” 

Nancy caressed Nap’s nose, evidently to his 
satisfaction; then she fed him, and slipped on 
the halter, which he resented at first, but in a 
moment submitted to with good grace. Holding 
by his mane, she ran along by his side, and with 
a leap was on his back. The colt reared and 
plunged till Burden turned white, and Anstey 
cursed himself for yielding to Miffins. 

“ She’ll be thrown,” groaned Burden. 

“No, she won’t — see how she sticks!” cried 
Anstey. And sure enough, Nancy was holding 
her own, and in a moment the two, horse and 
rider, were cantering round and round the hollow 
in true circus trim. A pile of birch saplings, 
perhaps four feet in height, had been left by 
Jacob in the centre of the hollow. The men had 
used a part of them to make the stretcher for 
the panther. Toward them Nancy guided the 
colt, and backward and forward, over and over, 
she put the graceful, spirited animal through his 
paces. 

Miffins threw up his cap and hurrahed, and it 


282 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


was all John could do to restrain Burden from 
imitating his example. His enthusiasm knew no 
bounds. 

“ By George, what a beauty ! You rascal, — 
never to let on; I never saw such grace except 
in a circus-rider. Look at her hair and her color- 
ing ” (the freckles had faded away during the 
winter), “and her voice like a lark. See her 
now ! ’’ 

Nap was waltzing slowly across the hollow 
and up the slope to the wood-lot, when, suddenly, 
with a bound, Nancy was off and was at his side. 
Seizing him by the mane, she took his soft nose 
between her hands, and planted a kiss on the 
white stripe. Then, with a gentle slap, she started 
him into a trot toward the other side of the 
pasture. 

“ How’s that ? ” she called to Miffins. 

“ Oh, Nance, it’s bully.” 

The two climbed into the wagon and drove 
off down the wood road and round the highroad 
to Reuben Liscom’s. 

Not until six years afterward, did Nancy know 
that she had had for witnesses of her wonderful 
equestrian powers two of the best riders in the 
State of New York. 

The visit was prolonged over Sunday; then, 
with plans laid for a happy, and as they hoped, 
profitable summer, Mr. Anstey and Burden bade 
good-by to the old Roost and its inmates. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The Husking 


\^7HAT a summer that was! The spring 
^ ^ term closed in early June, and before the 
last of the month, Mrs. Anstey and May Burden 
were installed in the Roost, and Mrs. Barnard 
and her daughter, Edith, at Mrs. Liscom’s. 

It had been somewhat difficult to persuade Mrs. 
Reuben to take boarders. But Anstey smoothed 
away all difficulties, and Nancy promised to be 
her “ right-hand man ” in everything. Seth’s 
sister had come over as help,” and the roomy 
old house blossomed like a rose under Mrs. 
Liscom’s careful housewifery and Nancy’s taste. 

Mrs. Barnard declared the simplicity was 
refreshing, and Edith Barnard adapted herself 
to the new surroundings in a really wonderful 
way. 

Anstey and Burden occupied the sugar-house, 
which they had transformed into a fine camp. 
They breakfasted by themselves, but the other 
two meals they took at the Roost. 

283 


284 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Martha had moved the kitchen stove out into 
the wood-shed, and during the long summer days 
the old house was cool and refreshing. She had 
a good woman — a cousin of Jacob’s — to help 
her, for neither Anstey nor his mother would 
hear of her overtaxing herself by attempting the 
work alone. 

Miffins was as good as a kitchen-maid. He 
picked and washed the vegetables, shelled peas, 
set the table, scoured the knives, and drove on 
errands to the village. 

How the days flew, by ! Burden groaned over 
it, but managed to fill them full. For there was 
golf and tennis, bathing in the Pool, riding over 
hill and dale, berrying in the back pasture, and 
running back and forth from the camp to Reuben 
Liscom’s or the Roost. Two of their friends 
came up for September, and with them a niece of 
Mrs. Barnard’s, and the young people turned chil- 
dren again, and led a free, unconventional out-of- 
door life all through that glorious month. And 
Nance enjoyed it all, with never a heart-burn. 
She had her work, which she accomplished to her 
aunt’s complete satisfaction, and many an excuse 
did Burden make to be at the Liscoms’ about the 
time that Nancy was setting the table in the broad 
front hall. His eyes rested with pleasure on the 
graceful, girlish figure, gowned in white and 
amply aproned in blue and white checked ging- 


THE HUSKING 


285 

ham, as it flitted in and out of the hall door, 
bringing cream and biscuit and berries, filling 
a bowl with late June roses for a centre-piece, or 
wreathing, in September, the supper-table with 
clematis. 

He had included her in many of the riding- 
parties, and the girl’s delight was refreshing to 
all those partly spoiled children of the rich, and 
her exquisite seat a matter of general comment. 

Anstey took note of his two pupils, and grew 
prouder and prouder of them. He saw that 
Nancy was blossoming into a beautiful girlhood 
— sixteen the twenty-eighth of September — 
under the loving, womanly influence of his 
mother and Martha Foss, and Miffins shedding 
the rough externals in refining companionship, 
and developing the manliest qualities with the 
example of Jacob Foss’s honest labor daily before 
him. 

They were all in the camp one evening late in 
September, a week before they left for the city — 
Jacob and Martha, John and his father and 
mother, the Barnards, Burden and his sister, 
Nance and Miffins, Edith’s cousins, and the two 
friends. A camp-fire lighted the happy faces, and 
story-telling was in order; then singing. Bur- 
den’s friend played the banjo and they all sang 
well. 

It was Jacob’s party, and he beat time with his 
feet and twirled his thumbs contentedly. 


286 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Fm er goin’ ter hev it out ter-night, marm/’ 
he exclaimed, as Martha protested against his 
continual cry for more songs. Fve got ter 
work like er Turk the next three days, er gittin’ 
in the corn ready fer huskin’, ’n’ Fm goin’ ter 
play a leetle extra overtime ter-night.” 

“ That’s right, Mr. Foss,” cried Burden. 
“ Have the fun while you can, and when you 
can’t, we’ll turn in and help get in the corn.” 

Much obleeged ; mebbe Fll take yer at yer 
word,” said Jacob. 

“ Do you ever have an old-fashioned husking 
now-a-days, Mr. Foss ? ” asked Mrs. Anstey. 

Wal, I hain’t, coz I hain’t hed no young folks 
ter carry it out. Gray-heads can’t do it alone, 
yer know.” Jacob smiled knowingly. 

“ Oh, Mr. Foss ! ” cried Edith Barnard, ‘‘ can’t 
we have an old-fashioned husking to end our 
summer with? You have plenty of young peo- 
ple now, Fm sure.” 

“ Ter be sure we can,” replied Jacob, entering 
into the project with heart and soul, dancin’ 
’n’ fiddle ’n’ all. We’ll get Barzy over ter help.” 

Martha laughed brightly. “ To think of them 
young folks dancin’ on our old barn floor ! ” 

'' It will be a treat, Mrs. Foss,” Mrs. Barnard 
assured her. “ We’ll all help you prepare for it, 
as far as we know how.” 

The young men were as eager as the girls. 


THE HUSKING 287 

“ Better engage yer partners now/’ laughed 
Jacob. 

“ Suppose we invite my school,” said Anstey. 

The very thing,” said Burden. ‘‘ I was 
thinking the girls would be as scarce as blue- 
berries.” 

Now, I give you all fair warning,” he con- 
tinued. ‘‘ It’s going to be an old-fashioned husk- 
ing — no playing at it, and you needn’t try to 
save your hands. May, and wear gloves, for it 
won’t be tolerated.” 

“Who said I was going, to?” laughed May. 
‘ You take too much for granted with your 
sister.” 

“ But you don’t any of you grasp my mean- 
ing,” said Burden, laughing. “ I said old-fash- 
ioned, Mr. Foss ; and they don’t take.” 

“ Yes, they do, but they’re a leetle shy. But 
you needn’t go ter raisin’ yer hopes, coz a red 
ear is erbout ez scurce ez a white blackbird.” 

What fun they had preparing for that husk- 
ing-party! True to their word, the four young 
men “ turned in ” and helped Jacob get in the 
corn. He confided to Martha afterward, “ they 
were worth a dozen er them shif’less fellers ez 
hires out; they’ve got brawn, too, marm,” he 
added with respect. 

Numerous pumpkins were cut into faces and 
lighted by candles within. These were hung 


288 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


from the trees in the yard. Flaming branches 
of maple, sheaves of yellow wheat, pumpkins, 
and crook-necked squashes decked the interior 
of the great barn all around the scaffolding. 
Dozens of farm safety-lanterns were borrowed 
for the occasion, and strung on ropes wound with 
ground hemlock that stretched from beam to 
beam. The great doors were opened, and the 
inside panels draperied with brilliant masses of 
Virginia creeper. 

The barn was seventy feet long, and gave 
ample room for the rough spruce table which 
the men put together in such a way that they 
could easily knock it apart when dancing was in 
order. 

It was covered with snow-white table-cloths, 
and the girls bordered it with a band of the rich 
red and yellow maple leaves. In the centre and 
at each end was a round of wood, the butts, sawed 
evenly, of some noble spruces. These were cov- 
ered with the last of the late ferns, and heaped 
with early rosy-cheeked harvest apples, russet 
pears, and Concord grapes, all the products of 
Jacob’s and Reuben’s farms. Mrs. Liscom and 
Martha contributed some architectural frosted 
chocolate layer-cakes of the size of milk-pans, 
and the Christmas work-baskets were again in 
requisition, but filled this time with ham sand- 
wiches. 


THE HUSKING 


289 


Nancy had learned the art of making pump- 
kin pies from her Aunt Liscom, and contributed 
two dozen golden ones, cut into quarters. Bur- 
den hung over them in an ecstasy of anticipation, 
as she placed them at regular intervals down the 
long table. 

Mrs. Anstey and Mrs. Barnard had laid their 
heads together, and sent for huge bonbon-boxes 
imitating ears of corn and filled with Huyler’s 
best butter-taffies. These were strung together 
and hung in bunches from the lantern ropes just 
over the table. 

Anstey had written the invitations to all the 
school and invited them to appear in the costume 
of any Dickens character they particularly ad- 
mired. The Dickens Club constituted themselves 
committee, and a fine collection of Dickensiana 
was the result. 

The home party entered into the whole affair 
with great spirit, and worked late at night over 
their costumes. 

Jacob and Martha and Mr. and Mrs. Liscom 
were not allowed to see anything of the final 
preparations. But they were escorted by Anstey 
and Burden and their friends to the barn when 
all were assembled. 

What a sight met Jacob's eyes! 

It was a perfect September night — the moon 
just rising at its full, the barn brilliant with lights 
and colors and vari-colored costumes. 


290 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


All four were escorted to wooden armchairs 
trimmed with greens, and set on a raised platform 
at the farther end of the barn, through the long 
double line of merry-makers, who sang the lovely 
words of Whittier’s “ Husking ” to the tune of 
‘‘ Auld Lang Syne.” 

Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoard, 

Heap high the golden corn ; 

No richer gift has Autumn poured, 

From out her lavish horn.” 

How the fresh voices rang out, and how the 
eager hands caught up the ears of corn piled 
behind them, and waved them triumphantly, as 
Jacob and Martha, dazed and touched to their 
very hearts’ core by such homage to their homely 
living, were placed on their rustic thrones. 

“ Wal, Marthy,” said Jacob, when he found 
his voice, “ it’s wuth livin’ ’n honest lifetime alone 
on Beaver Tail ter ’sperience this.” 

Martha was too overcome to do more than 
press his hand. Reuben coughed violently to 
hide his emotion, and Mrs. Liscom confided to 
Martha she was ‘‘ tremblin’ like a leaf.” But all 
this passed off as the merry party introduced 
themselves. 

There was Nance, the loveliest Dolly Varden 
in the world, and Edith Barnard as Lizzie Hexam, 
and May Burden as the Doll’s Dressmaker, with 
her wonderful golden hair falling to her waist. 


THE HUSKING 


291 


Burden was capital as Dick Swiveller, and An- 
stey as Traddles. Dot was a round bunch of a 
girl in the first-year Latin class, and Seth’s sister 
was Mrs. Gummidge. Jim and Harry and Billy 
were bravely gotten up as Silas Wegg, Oliver 
Twist, and Parson Stiggins. Seth was deter- 
mined to appear as Uriah Heep, and the com- 
mittee allowed him to have his way, although 
they begged him to be Mr. Dick. 

Sam Weller and Peggotty were there in the 
persons of Burden’s friends, and Edith’s cousin 
was Betsey Trotwood. And there, too, were the 
Marchioness and little Miss Elite, and Marley’s 
Ghost, and Winkle, the sentimental, and Quilp 
and Mrs. Quilp, and last, but not least, Miffins 
as Tiny Tim. 

‘‘ It’s all I could be, you know,” he said, quietly, 
to Anstey, and the man turned away abruptly, 
and this time the lump was in his throat. 

First the quaintly costumed boys and girls set 
themselves to the husking. The fingers flew. 
Jacob descended from his chair of state. 

“ I can’t Stan’ it,” he cried. “ I’ve got ter lend 
er hand or bust.” And he busied himself with 
removing the husks in a bushel basket as fast 
as they collected in the four corners of the barn, 
and emptying them outside, while Barzy hauled 
in shock after shock to keep all hands busy. Only 
two red ears were found during the work. But 


292 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


one, by luck, fell to Burden, who promptly claimed 
his kiss from the Marchioness amid shrieks of 
laughter, and one fell to Seth, who sidled up to 
Nancy, and nothing abashed, proceeded to claim 
his own, but found to his amazement he had kissed 
only the back of her hand, which she substi- 
tuted for her cheek. 

And when the bushels upon bushels of yellow 
ears had been turned into stalls and bins, filling 
them to overflowing, the supper was served by all 
the home party and good cheer abounded. 

Burden declared afterward he had eaten six 
sandwiches, one whole pumpkin-pie, three pieces 
of chocolate cake, two apples, and drunk three 
mugs of Martha’s delicious coffee. 

Many hands made light work, and the table was 
soon cleared and taken down. Barzy scraped his 
fiddle, and there was a great hurry and scurry for 
partners. Jacob was in his element. 

Come, Marthy, you’ve got ter dance ter- 
night ! ” he cried, enthusiastically. 

‘‘ Of course, but not with her husband,” said 
John’s father. “ I claim that honor.” And with 
old-time gallantry he offered his arm to Martha, 
who accepted it with visible pride. 

Wal, I be cut out fer onct,” said Jacob, but 
may I hev the honor, ma’am?” He jerked a 
bow to Mrs. Anstey, and pulled his forelock as 
if he had been forty years younger, and the sweet- 


THE HUSKING 


293 


faced gentlewoman gave him her hand with in- 
imitable grace, and took her place with him at 
the foot. 

The barn rang with laughter. Such a clapping 
of hands, such a marking of time on the old barn 
floor. The swallows flew affrighted from their 
nests under the eaves. Reel in — reel out — Peg- 
gotty and Miss Flite, Dick Swiveller and the 
Marchioness, Uriah and Dolly Varden — Nancy 
was determined to make one boy’s heart happy 
that night, — Betsey Trotwood in stiff cap and 
spectacles with Parson Stiggins, the Doll’s Dress- 
maker and Oliver Twist, Silas Wegg (laying 
aside his stump) and Mrs. Quilp, and all the 
Cithers, stamping, shouting, laughing, till they 
were almost incapacitated for dancing. 

“ My breath’s gi’n out,” panted Martha to her 
cavalier partner after the first winding of the 
reel. 

And my gout will be warning me soon, Mrs. 
Foss. Suppose we withdraw gracefully ? ” To 
which proposition Martha assented only too 
willingly, and was led back to her seat on the 
dais. 

But Jacob and Mrs. Anstey danced it through. 
The graceful woman held her own with all the 
young girls, who admired her immensely. Not 
until the last long-drawn scrape of the fiddle 
made itself heard, and curtsey to your partner ” 


294 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


was in order, did Jacob stop to wipe his brow, 
and with an extra flourish of his long arms bow 
to his partner and lead her to a seat. 

. Then the city young people gave the others 
a surprise. Burden led out Edith, one of Burden’s 
two friends took Mrs. Barnard’s niece, the other 
May, and Anstey led out Nance (Nance had been 
coached during the last four days). Jim played 
the banjo, and a minuet was danced, to the delight 
of all present. 

Never before had Dick Swiveller and Lizzie 
Hexam, Sam Weller and Betsey Trotwood, Peg- 
gotty and the Doll’s Dressmaker, Traddles and 
Dolly Varden danced a stately minuet in an old 
barn on one of the green hills of Vermont. 

They were obliged to repeat it. Then Lizzie 
Hexam and the Doll’s Dressmaker danced a 
cachucha with castanets that Burden had impro- 
vised out of small sheep-bells. Afterward, the 
four college men, to banjo accompaniment, sang 
their glees, and the whole school and Mr. Anstey 
as well, joined their Vive I’amour,” and it was 
twelve o’clock when the old refrain, “ Good-night, 
ladies,” acted as a hint that all pleasant things 
must have an end, huskings among them. 

“ What makes you so uneasy, Jacob ? ” said 
Martha to her spouse, as he turned over for the 
fifth time, about two in the morning. 

I vum, marm, I can’t sleep with all thet music 


THE HUSKING 


295 


’n’ dancin’ ’n’ lights ’n’ color er runnin’ in my 
head. I feel kinder upset. ’Tain’t the kind er 
life, arter all, marm, thet we country folks can 
Stan’ in the long run. Them city folks, gals ’n’ 
all, must be tough somewhere.” 

“ I know they be,” said Martha, “ fer Miss 
Burden danced till two ’n’ three in the mornin’ 
’thout a thing over her shoulders, in a thin silk 
dress — dead er winter, too.” 

“ Yer don’t say so,” Jacob yawned. ‘‘ Wal, 
they’re er goin’ ter-morrer, ’n’ much ez I like ’em. 
I’ll be kinder glad ter settle down inter my old 
tracks, ’n’ I don’t think Mr. Anstey’ll hev anythin’ 
agin it. Jerusalem! how them girls did dance 
thet new-fangled dance I ” Jacob’s foot beat time 
on the foot-board. 

“ Go ter sleep, Jacob, an’ don’t be a fool at 
your time er life,” warned Martha, a little se- 
verely, and under this unwonted extinguisher 
Jacob stopped beating time and went to sleep. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A November Night 

“ OEEMS kinder lonesome, marm,” said Jacob, 
as he brought in the milk one morning late 
in October. 

“ I miss ’em dretfully,” replied Martha. 

Miffins came in at that moment with a basket 
of eggs. Jacob counted them. ‘‘ It beats all how 
them hens strike jest ez soon ez prices git er 
leetle higher.” 

Nancy told me yesterday she had saved all 
her egg money this last year, and it amounted to 
thirty-seven dollars. She says she is going away 
to boarding-school in a few days, and if she hadn’t 
had the egg money she couldn’t have had any 
new things to go away with.” 

Nance going away! ” cried Martha. Well, 
I’m glad of it for the girl’s sake, but I shall miss 
her dretfully. How’d she come to go?” 

‘‘ She said she was coming over to tell you 
all about it. I think Mrs. Barnard had something 
to do with it.” 


296 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


297 

“ Like enough,” said Martha, thoughtfully. 
Just then Anstey came in. 

‘‘ Mr. Foss, can you get on without me for a 
few days? ” 

‘‘ You goin’ too ! ” exclaimed Martha. And, 
‘‘ What yer goin’ ter leave us fer? ” asked Jacob, 
in the same breath. 

I’ve just been down for the mail, and in a 
letter from my mother, she says the doctor, after 
hearing such a good report” (Mrs. Anstey had 
confided her burden — mother-like — to Martha 
Foss), “ wants to prove it by thumping me a bit. 
She writes, too, that Nancy Liscomb is coming 
down to the Barnards for a few days before she 
goes away to school, and they want me to bring 
her down in my care. So I can kill two birds 
with one stone if I go next Friday, and the com- 
mittee let me off till Wednesday; that’s the 
second of November.” 

“ I’m glad ’tain’t any longer than thet,” said 
Tacob. “ The Roost’ll seem ’bout deserted ’thout 
yer.” 

I couldn’t leave the Roost long, Mr. Foss. 
I’ve struck root too deep in all this new life.” 

Jacob grasped the young man’s hand, and 
wrung it, as the only expression of his apprecia- 
tion. 

“ Barzy brought word this morning thet Silas 
Foss was ailin’, ’n’ his wife had been sick with 


298 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


the grip,” remarked Martha, irrelevantly, “ ’n’ 
it seems ter fit in jest right.” 

“ What air yer drivin’ at, marm ? ” said Jacob. 
Anstey had gone into his room. 

“ Why, I’ve been thinkin’ fer more’n a year 
past thet we owed them a visit; he’s ’bout all 
the relation on your father’s side you’ve got — 
only it’s a great undertakin’ ; there ain’t no 
denyin’ that. I thought we could go over ’n’ 
spend a few days with ’em while Mr. Anstey was 
in New York, ’n’ cheer ’em up a little. It’ll give 
Maranthy a rest. I b’lieve in visitin’ when you 
can carry somethin’ to folks ’n’ not take every- 
thing away.” 

“ ’Twould be a good plan, marm. I hain’t seen 
Silas fer er year. But how ’bout the boy ? ” 

“ I can take care of myself and the Roost, too,” 
said Miffins. “ You say yourself I can do the 
chores as well as a man.” 

‘‘ So yer can, sonny, so yer can, ’n’ marm could 
leave ’nuff vittles fer yer.” 

I’d like ter go over by stage, father,” said 
Martha. 

You’ll go jest which way you want ter. I, 
fer one, am glad ’nuff not ter take the bosses over 
that road, ’n’ besides, I shall find ’nuff ter do 
fer Silas ; mebbe he’ll want his wood drawed, ’n’ 
like ’nuff split.” 

I’d like to stop a part of a day ’n’ visit with 
Alviry Bird,” said Martha. 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


299 


“ Wal, what’s ter bender ? I’ll tell yer what 
we’ll do; we’ll go over by stage, ’n’ sonny can 
drive us down to Hurdyville, and when we come 
back Tuesday, we’ll take the stage ez fer ez 
Handy’s tavern, jest the other side er the 
mountin, ’n’ yer can visit with Alviry over din- 
ner, ’n’ sonny can meet us there with the team 
’bout four. We’ll git home by dark.” 

“ Thet’ll jest suit me,” said Martha, con- 
tentedly. 

‘'Can I drive Nap?” Mififins asked, eagerly. 

“Yer a good driver, sonny, ’n’ thet colt is ez 
stiddy after the summer’s work ez a wood-saw. 
He plowed er piece of sidlin’ land t’other day 
better’n Eth can do it. He’s surer-footed, too, ’n 
Ethan on sech a rough road.” 

Miffins threw up his cap in his glee at the 
honor conferred on him. 

Friday morning Mifhns drove Martha and 
Jacob and Anstey to Hurdyville, and afterward 
carried Anstey down to Barnet for the 10.30 
train. 

“ Ef it’s a-rainin’ yer needn’t come fer us, 
sonny,” were Jacob’s parting words. “ But ef 
it looks like it, yer might. A heavy rain this 
time of year makes hard travellin’, ’n strains er 
wagon more’n er spill any time. Now yer’ve 
got yer orders, hev ye, all straight ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Miffins, repeating, “ If it’s 


300 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


raining, I’m not to come for you ; if it looks like 
rain, I’m to be there about four.” 

‘‘ Thet’s right ; now take care er yerself till I 
git back. Don’t fergit ter wet thet feed ’n’ — ” 
Jacob’s head was out of the stage, but Martha 
pulled him in. 

It had been arranged that Jim Leonard should 
keep Miffins company during Martha’s absence, 
and, to the boy’s delight, Anstey had placed his 
rooms at their disposal while he was away. Jim 
remained till Tuesday morning. The two boys 
revelled in possession of the den and its con- 
tents, examining guns and pipes, books and 
pictures to their hearts’ content. Martha had 
provided amply for their material wants, and 
the time passed only too quickly. But during 
the first three days it had rained almost without 
ceasing, keeping the boys in close confinement. 

Lying on the rug with the dogs in front of 
the fire, they talked over their prospective Latin 
examination, their victory over the Montpelier 
football team, and laid wagers as to which girl 
would be the belle of the school now Nancy was 
away. 

I say,” said Jim, on the last evening, waxing 
confidential, “ don’t you think it was awful fresh 
of Seth to try to kiss Nance that night of the 
husking? ” 

It was just ignorance,” said Miffins, decid- 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


301 

edly, downright ignorance. As if Nance would 
look at him.” 

“ If rd found a red ear I wouldn’t had 
the cheek to even ask her, no matter how much 
I wanted to.” 

“ Did you ever mind Mr. Anstey with the 
young ladies, Jim ? ” asked Miffins. 

‘‘ I haven’t seen as much of him with them 
as you have; so I don’t know what you mean.” 

“ I don’t know as I mean anything in par- 
ticular — but — well, you know he’s awfully 
polite and jolly and all that with ’em — but there 
isn’t a drop of spooniness about him. I’d bet 
he wouldn’t kiss a girl even if she was willing, 
unless he had a right to — I mean, unless ’twas 
the real thing, you know.” Miffins was growing 
confused. 

“ Oh, that’s all rot,” said Jim. '' If a girl’s 
willing you should kiss her, it’s all fair enough, 
and a fellow’d be a prig not to.” 

How about Nance? ” 

Oh, well,” said Jim, weakening a little, 

that’s different. Nance is the uncommon 
kind ; you can’t judge by her. I mean every-day 
kind of girls.” 

Well, that’s the kind I shouldn’t want to — 
to — ” said Miffins, avoiding with a sort of 
shyness the osculatory word. Who’s your 
favorite knight, Jim? ” 


302 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


“ Sir Launcelot,” replied Jim, promptly. 
“ Who’s yours?” 

I never told before,” said Miffins, under his 
breath, “ but it’s Sir Galahad.” 

Jim stared at him. ‘‘ Oh, well, if you’re going 
to pattern after him, you won’t have much to do 
with kissing. Where’s that book on football 
rules? ” 

“ Here ’tis,” said Miffins, glad to change the 
subject. 

I wish you could go with me to-morrow to 
Handy’s tavern, Jim, and shoot with me.” 

I’d give anything if I could; I’ve always 
wanted to shoot in the woods north of the lake, 
but I promised father I’d be at home by ten 
Tuesday to help him; besides I’m afraid Mr. 
Foss wouldn’t like such a load for Nap.” 

No, I don’t suppose he would. We’ve had 
such luck in the weather, regular water-spouts; 
I’m glad it’s held up to-night; p’raps we’ll have 
it fair to-morrow.” 

But the morrow brought no fair weather. 
Heavy clouds, apparently ready to drop water at 
any moment, rolled up from the south, and a 
chill wind carried them in huddling masses 
toward the north. 

The East Branch at Hurdyville was level with 
its banks when the rain ceased on Monday night, 
and had not fallen on Tuesday morning, a sure 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


303 


sign of rain still falling to the east. But of 
this Miffins in the Roost could know nothing. 

He obeyed orders to the letter. It was not 
raining, and it did look like rain — with little 
prospect of it, however, after a three days’ deluge. 

Moreover, the wind, if it continued to blow, 
would by night dry the roads on the mountain, 
which drained easily the first among the sur- 
rounding hills. So Miffins decided to go. He 
wanted, too, a chance at the partridges in the 
woods north of Barnet Lake. They would 
readily come out of cover after such an enforced 
fast. 

He harnessed Nap into the light farm-wagon, 
and, putting in shawls and an extra buffalo-robe 
and horse blanket, that Martha might ride more 
comfortably, a good lunch, a game bag, an extra 
halter, an extra hitching-strap, and Anstey’s 
small shot-gun, he climbed in; but just as he 
was driving out of the yard he remembered the 
lantern. With hard going they could not get 
home before dark. He turned back, and, not 
daring to leave Nap, tied him to the hitching- 
post, filled the lantern, and put some matches in 
his pocket. Then he started again. 

As he drove along the high road that skirted 
the slopes just above Beaver Dam, he heard the 
tremendous roar of the Branch as it plunged 
downward toward Hurdyville. 


304 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


I’d like to see the water go over that dam 
now,” he thought. 

Jacob had told him that although it was not 
made by hands, and was called a natural dam, 
it had been at first, in his boyhood, before the 
outlet to Barnet Lake was dammed for saw-mill 
purposes, a resort for beavers, and they had laid 
the foundations for the higher dam that had been 
formed in times of freshet, when large trunks of 
trees, earth, clay, rocks, and stones had been 
carried down the Branch', and caught and lodged 
on the obstruction placed there by the beavers. 
Jacob had also said that those who had watched 
its formation during all these years, had never 
fully trusted its strength. He said, also, that 
he felt sure the boom of logs that the lumbermen 
had made there the last five springs had weak- 
ened it. 

“ It’ll last mebbe a hundred years, ’n’ mebbe 
it won’t,” he had said. “ ’Twouldn’t s’prise me 
ter see it er sailin’ down-stream in my lifetime. 
It’ll wet ’em a leetle in the village — the stock’ll 
do some lively swimmin’ in the yards, but ’twon’t 
put no lives in danger. But ef ever the lake 
dam should break, God hev mercy on ’em all! 
It’s alius ben a worrit ter me, ’n’ the town’s shit- 
less ’bout lookin’ arter it now the saw-mill’s 
gone.” 

Miffins recalled this speech of Jacob’s, as the 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


305 


roar of the Branch followed him along the high- 
road. The stage-road to Handy’s tavern fol- 
lowed the high bank of the Branch for six miles. 
At that point it rounded Barnet Lake, and turned 
into the woods to the north; six miles farther 
took the traveller over the mountain and left 
him at Handy’s tavern and a small settlement 
of houses, which was twelve miles from Stillton, 
a little village where lived Silas Foss, Jacob’s 
second cousin. 

Miffins had heard of the hunter’s paradise in 
the woods to the north of the lake, and antici- 
pated bagging plenty of small game — par- 
tridges, gray squirrels, possibly a fox, for the 
skin of which he would receive a bounty. 

It was still dark and lowering when he reached 
the tavern at one. He put up the horse, ordered 
some coffee, ate his lunch, and then went into 
the woods and low bush. Game was, indeed, 
plentiful, and he longed for Anstey to share the 
sport. Five brace of fat partridges, two squirrels, 
and a rabbit nearly filled his bag. 

Excited with his luck, the time passed more 
quickly than he realized ; it was a little past four 
when he returned to the tavern. But no Jacob 
and Martha were there. Upon inquiry, he 
found that the stage which had passed through 
there at ten had brought no passengers. 

Miffins hardly knew what to think. Perhaps 


3o6 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Silas Foss was worse; perhaps they had con- 
cluded to wait and return on the morning stage 
to Hurdyville; the roads were pretty bad. Per- 
haps — and this seemed to him most likely — 
it was still raining in Stillton, and they had con- 
cluded it was raining in Hurdyville, and Miffins 
had obeyed orders. 

He inquired of the landlord if the stage-driver 
had said anything about the weather. 

“ Wal, he didn’t say much — but he wrung 
out the legs of his pants by the kitchen fire, ’n’ 
said it beat the deluge. I never see the Branch 
so high — it rises jest over there,” pointing 
beyond the summit of the mountain, “ ’n’ it’s 
nothin’ but er brook when ’tain’t dropping pitch- 
forks, ez it hez fer three days.” 

Miffins decided to wait until five or half-past, 
and then, if Jacob and Martha did not appear, 
to drive homeward. He would be only an hour 
late for the chores, and he had the lantern with 
him. 

Ef I wuz yew. I’d git thet lantern fixed onter 
the axle ’fore yer started. Thet colt’s er feelin’ 
purty kinky — er high-life one ez ever I see. Yer 
don’t see sech horseflesh on the mountin more’n 
once er lifetime.” 

Miffins took his advice, lighted his lantern, 
and hung it from the axle before he started. 

Guess yer know yer critter purty well,” 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


307 


drawled the man, as Miffins calmed Nap with a 
word, and the horse stood motionless for Miffins 
to climb in. 

We’re pretty good friends,” said Miffins, 
and drove away toward the woods in the quickly 
gathering gloom. 

It was dark and lonely enough for those six 
miles of wilderness road. He met no team. 
Now and then a rustling in the underbrush, a 
thud of little paws over the dead, soaked leaves. 
Once Nap reared high, as a lightning-blasted tree 
trunk showed white in the lantern’s rays, and once 
he shied at a wood-pussy loping across the road. 

As they emerged from the woods, the moon, 
three-quarters to the full at that date, was 
struggling with masses of scudding blackness. 
Through rifts, here and there, its light shone 
brilliantly white for a moment, then it was cov- 
ered as with a pall. 

As Miffins rounded the lake toward the old 
saw-mill, long since fallen into disuse, that stood 
on the bank at the end of the dam, the sky cleared 
and the moon shone full upon the beautiful sheet 
of water. Miffins drew rein. This was some- 
thing worth seeing. 

The waters of the lake produced a curious opti- 
cal delusion, or so he thought at the moment. 
It seemed over full, and the surface all around 
the banks rose into a perceptible oval, while near 


3o8 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


the centre and toward the dam there seemed to 
be a depression, as if some huge weight were 
pressing the central waters into a trough where 
the Branch issued from the lake and went over 
the dam. 

Miffins rubbed his eyes. Then he looked again. 
It was really so. What did it all mean? He 
drove as near as he could to the bank, and again 
drew rein. He must find out what this thing 
meant, so far as he could. 

He tied Nap with double hitching-straps to 
a tree near by the roofless saw-mill, and, taking 
the lantern from the axle, made his way along 
the rotted beams and decayed flooring to the 
sluiceway, unused now for many years. He 
crept along the beams a little way, and then could 
go no farther. The moon still shone clear and 
bright. The water looked like quicksilver. Now 
he could see that strange depression at first-hand, 
and, as he looked, Jacob’s words came back to 
him : “ But if ever the lake dam should break, 
God hev mercy on ’em all ! ” 

This, then, was the matter ! The lake dam was 
giving way! Would it go while he stood there 
and carry death to all the dwellers in Hurdy- 
ville? The boy turned faint and sick with the 
shock. He leaned heavily on his crutch. At 
that moment Nap whinnied. The sound flashed 
a possibility into his mind and steadied his 


nerves. 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


309 

Cautiously he made his way back over the 
sunken beams and the unsteady flooring. 

He would try it, let come what would. He 
could but make the attempt to save them. 

The moon was still out, but black clouds were 
driving up from the south. 

The boy talked quietly to Nap while he took 
off the harness. The horse rubbed his nose on 
the boy’s shoulder while he was at work. He 
took the horse blanket, folded it, and with girth 
and halter and hitching-straps, managed to secure 
ii so that it did not slip on the horse’s back. 

He could take neither lantern nor crutch; it 
would be all he could do to stick on, for he had 
never been able to ride a horse on account of 
his twisted thigh, and the pain it caused his 
shrunken leg. But to-night it must be. 

The reins he shortened to use for a bridle. He 
took care, too, to fold the blanket in such a way 
that there were loops into which he could thrust 
at least his good foot, the right. He climbed into 
the wagon and mounted Nap, talking to him 
all the while. 

All the noble animal’s blood and training 
showed in the wonderfully intelligent way in 
which he handled himself in the unwonted cir- 
cumstances. 

He aided Miflins to the extent of his ability. 
The horse felt that there was work before him, 


310 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


and something helpless on his back. He laid 
back his ears, turned his head toward Miffins, 
backed gently away from the tree, then, with a 
snort, waited for orders. 

Miffins patted his neck, then with an end of 
the hitching-strap struck the horse sharply on 
the flank. “ Hoop-la, Nap,” he cried in his ear. 
Without rearing or plunging, the horse set him- 
self into a rapid canter. Not once did he trot. 

Miffins leaned far forward upon the horse’s 
neck, his right foot braced as firmly as possible 
in the blanket fold, his left leg lying as far as 
possible on the horse’s flank, for ease of his mis- 
ery, and knowing that soon he must sit upright. 

Now speed. Nap ! nor strain those noble withers 
in the first three miles. There is stiff work 
before you on the lower road; there is a break- 
neck pace for the last mile; two hundred lives 
are at stake in the village on the flats, and the 
horseman Death, mounted on his foaming 
charger, has already begun the race and will soon 
ride neck to neck with you! 

The horse sped onward, ever down-hill. The 
moon was again obscured by clouds, but the fleet 
hoofs struck out sparks along the road, — nor 
ever a stumble, nor ever a faltering. 

Miffins set his teeth. The pain, even with that 
cradle-gait, was becoming intolerable. Had the 
dam given way? He fancied he heard an added 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


3 ” 


roaring to the waters of the Branch below the 
embankment along which the highroad ran. He 
strained his ears — it was no fancy. By the lesser 
grade, he knew he must be near the hill road that 
led to the Roost, consequently somewhere near 
Beaver Dam. If that dam would only hold for 
a little under the on-rush of the lake waters, 
he might still be in time. 

Nap, Nap!” he cried, in the horse’s ear. 
“ On, on, good fellow, on I ” He let forth the 
full power of his lungs, trained for years to 
sound above the din and roar of the thorough- 
fares of New York. 

The horse responded at once to that urgent 
cry. With ears flattened to his mane and head 
low, he broke into a run, a furious pace, in which 
there was consciousness of nothing on the part 
of horse or rider, but the strain of every nerve 
and muscle in the animal organism, whether 
human or equine. 

The sweat dropped from Mifflns’s forehead into 
his eyes, blinding them. The sweat stood in 
beads upon his racked body. The last mile! 
Horse and rider were deaf to any exterior sound 

— the pounding of their own blood was all they 
heard. 

Here and there a dweller on a hill farm, hear- 
ing the thud of the flying hoofs on the highroad 

— a sound that passed in a moment — opened 
the farmhouse door and looked out into the night. 


312 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


At last, a village light ! Miffins, clinging des- 
perately to the horse’s mane, but sitting as erect 
as possible, opened his lips, and from his throat, 
parched with suffering and excitement, came 
that awful cry that resounded far and wide: 

The lake — dam’s — broke ! Fly — fly ! ” 
The dwellers in Hurdyville were either eating 
their supper or clearing the tables and finishing 
the chores, when that first warning cry reached 
them. 

Squire Liscom’s house was the last in the vil- 
lage, toward the east, and Dan, barring the barn 
door for the night, heard that cry and the on- 
coming Steed. He rushed to the road with his 
lantern held high above his head. 

Something flashed into the light of its rays, 
and a stentorian voice — hoarse — powerful — 
far-reaching, cried: 

The lake — dam’s — broke ! Fly — fly ! ” 
and the something was gone in the darkness. 

Ho ! ho ! The lake — dam’s — broke ! ” 
resounded through the night — and men and 
women and children, hearing that terrible cry, 
rushed to the doors only to see the something 
pass, and hear the fearful note: 

“ Ho ! ho ! The lake — dam’s — broke ! ” 
No need for that further warning of the dull 
roar approaching from the east! In terror for 
their lives the two hundred souls in Hurdyville 


A NOVEMBER NIGHT 


3^3 


village fled from their homes through the waters 
that were already rising in their dooryards — 
fled to the security of the hill-slopes behind their 
houses, and waited trembling as to what would 
be the outcome of that engulfing flood. 

When, at last, about eight o’clock, the moon 
shone clear, a waste of waters covered the fertile 
meadows and the one long street of Hurdyville 
village. Here and there floated the wreck of a 
barn, an outhouse, or corn-crib, that had been 
struck and pressed from its foundations by 
trunks of trees and beams piling against it. 

The houses, save a few back on the hillsides, 
the refuge of the villagers, were filled with water 
to the second story, and cattle and sheep in the 
pens and yards, and horses in the barns had 
been drowned by the dozen. The fury of the 
flood had been spent when it vented itself upon 
the lowlands, and the East Branch rolled on 
to its junction with the Winooski at Barnet, 
giving no hint, save in the floating wreckage, and 
here and there the carcass of a sheep or cow, 
and its bed full to overflowing, of the devasta- 
tion it had wrought in one hour. 

With the roar of the on-coming waters in 
his ears, Mifflns, spent to exhaustion, sped on. 
He dared not stop. ‘'To Barnet!” was his 
thought, “ for help.” But the horse that had 
covered the six miles in eighteen minutes was 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


3H 

spent, too. A mile beyond the village he slack- 
ened his terrible pace, and gradually fell into 
a walk, breathing heavily. At last he stopped 
of his own accord. 

The stage from Barnet — late on account of 
the trains — was coming along the road with 
no hint of what was before it. John Anstey had 
returned a day sooner than he had anticipated, 
and sat on the seat with the driver. There were 
no other passengers. He saw the horse — appar- 
ently riderless — stop in the middle of the road. 
The driver reined in his horses. 

‘‘ It’s Nap ! ” exclaimed Anstey. He sprang 
to the ground. The horse whinnied feebly, but 
never stirred. The man stooped and lifted al- 
most from under the animal’s hind feet a limp, 
and to all appearances, unconscious figure. 

Miffins ! ” he cried. “ Miffins, speak to me ! ” 
The boy’s eyes opened. With great effort, 
he raised his head, and shouted hoarsely: 

“ The lake — dam’s — broke ! ” and knew no 


more. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

The Little Citizen 

F or weeks, nothing was talked of in every vil- 
lage in the county but the Hurdyville freshet. 
For weeks, Miffins’s name was upon the lips of 
old and young, and for weeks, the boy, who 
had risked life and limb for the lives of others, 
lay unconscious of all the praise and gratitude 
in yVnstey’s den in the Roost. 

It was brain fever, the result of that terrible 
ride under the pressure of life and death. Again 
and again the loving watchers through the long 
November nights heard the hoarse cry break 
from the lips of the fever-stricken boy — “ The 
lake — dam's — broke ! ” And in his delirium 
there were constant incoherent mutterings of 
waters and floods and waves that were over- 
whelming him. But the waters subsided at 
last, and those who loved him, and those who 
owed to him their lives, welcomed with tears 
of thankfulness the joyful word that Miflins, 
too, was saved. 

315 


3i6 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Anstey carried him, weak and pale, out into 
the kitchen for the Thanksgiving dinner. 

YerVe got ter eat now, sonny, ’n’ make up 
for the starvation diet we’ve kept yer on these 
last four weeks,” said Jacob, trying to speak 
cheerfully, but finding that his voice broke most 
uncertainly. “ I ain’t er goin’ ter show my boy 
to all my townsfolks er lookin’ ez ef we’d kept 
him short! I told ’em they’d hev ter wait er 
spell ’fore they see yer in public ! ” 

There had been held in the town-hall of Barnet, 
two weeks after the freshet, a meeting of the 
inhabitants of both villages. That it concerned 
Miffins, Jacob knew through John Anstey, who 
had been asked by a committee of five, repre- 
senting the two towns, to meet the townspeople 
that night. But of the proceedings he knew 
nothing, and his last remark was directed to 
Anstey to see what it would bring forth in 
response. 

Anstey smiled, but did not gratify him. 

Have you decided on the name yet, Mr. Foss ? ” 
he asked. 

Yes, Marthy ’n’ me hev talked it over with 
sonny, ’n’ he’s goin’ ter be called Foss, anyway, 
seein’ Fm er goin’ ter make it legal, ’n’ Marthy 
she wants him ter hev the name of our boy, 
thet’s James, ’n’ sonny wants your’n, if you’re 
willin’ he should hev it.” 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


317 


I should be proud to have you bear my 
name, Miffins. So then, it’s to be James Anstey 
Foss. I think we’ll have to introduce him to 
the townspeople by that name.” 

When he was able to be driven out, he was 
duly christened James Anstey Foss by Parson 
Leonard on a quiet Sunday morning before 
church, and the next week he was invited, by 
formal invitation through a committee, to meet 
the inhabitants of both villages in the town-hall 
of Barnet. 

Jacob was a proud man as he drove Martha 
and Anstey and Miffins down to Barnet one 
frosty night in December. He had harnessed 
Ethan and Nap together, for Nap, too, had been 
invited. 

As Miffins stumped into the hall, brilliantly 
lighted by dozens of kerosene lamps, decorated 
with flags and Christmas greens, and with scarce 
standing-room for the many, the village band 
struck up, “ Hail to the Chief.” The people 
rose as one to their feet and fairly drowned the 
triumphal strains with their cheers. 

Miffins was escorted to a seat on the small 
platform by Seth and Jim and Harry and Billy, 
who were acting as ushers. Jacob, Martha, and 
Anstey also were guests of honor. 

Lawyer Slocum was chairman. He had to 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


318 

rap several times before there was silence. When 
at last he procured it, he spoke: 

Parson Leonard, will you offer prayer ? ” 
As the parson stepped forward and lifted his 
hand, every head was bowed. No one who 
heard that short petition ever forgot it. It 
brought each one into communion, for the space 
of a minute, with the Father of us all. Then 
Lawyer Slocum spoke : 

Friends and neighbors : we are gathered here 
to-night to try to express in some way, inade- 
quate as it must seem to us all, our gratitude 
to one who, coming among us as a stranger 
nearly a year and a half ago, has rendered to all 
the people of our town a service that rarely falls 
to the lot of any man to render to one, or two at 
most, of his fellow men. We, two hundred souls, 
owe to him our lives. No words can express 
what is in the heart of each of us to-night. No 
recognition can be made in the remotest degree 
adequate to the service rendered. In rendering 
that service, he counted his own young life as 
nothing. Thank God, that life has been spared 
to him and to us. The meeting is open to one 
and all for two-minute testimonies of grateful- 
ness and thankfulness.” 

Lawyer Slocum sat down and cleared his 
throat, as did likewise many another in the 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


319 

audience. Deacon Simms rose and made his 
way to the little platform. 

“ Deacon Simms has the floor,” said Lawyer 
Slocum. 

“ I hain’t got much ter say, Mr. Chairman ; 
words don’t come easy at jest sech er time, but 
if I’ve took the sense of this meetin’ of my feller 
townsfolks, it is ter try ter dew somethin’ ter 
show how we feel ’bout this ere boy. I’ve done 
er good deal er canvassin’ sence thet night, seven 
weeks ago, when I see my cows er swimmin’ fer 
dear life, ’n’ me ’n’ Seth ’n’ Jane ready ter swim 
too, in ernother minute, ef things hedn’t worked 
jest ez they did, ’n’ I want ter make er motion.” 

“ I’ll second any motion yer er min’ ter make, 
deacon,” piped Barzy. 

“ I move thet ez many of us taxpayers ez 
want ter show our appreciation of what this ere 
boy’s done fer us will show it by puttin’ their 
ban’s in their pockets, ’n’ signify the same by 
risin’ ter their feet! ” 

Barzy’s “ Second the motion ” was drowned 
in an outburst of cheering. 

‘‘ I hain’t got ready yit ter hev it put ter vote, 
Mr. Chairman, coz I don’t know jest how ter 
open the wallet. I’m open to suggestion.” 

Barzy rose. Lawyer Slocum called to order. 
“ Mr. Putnam has the floor.” 

I move, Mr. Chairman,” piped Barzy, “ thet 


320 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


the taxpayers er this town er ours, pay er poll- 
tax of fifty cents on er year, fer every year er 
their lives they calculate this boy’s ben the means 
er savin’ em, — settin’ the Scripter bounds er 
life ez three score and ten year, — till he’s of age. 
Thet means fer me fifteen year, ’n’ seven dollars 
’n’ a half tax each year, — ’n’ thet pro rata sum 
from ez many taxpayers ez is willin’, be put 
out ter int’rest, ’n’ the amount applied ter this 
boy’s eddication; fer yer all know he’s got ter 
live by his brains, ’n’ live up ter the glory er 
thet night’s work, ’n’ we ain’t er goin’ ter let 
no outsiders claim what’s our privilege.” 

Vote ! vote ! ” shouted the people. Put to 
vote, not by ayes and nays, but by standing and 
counting, be it recorded to the honor of Hurdy- 
ville that every taxpayer — even Jane Slocum 
Liscom — sprang to his feet, proud to be 
counted in. Again there was an uproar of 
cheers. 

‘‘ May I speak, father ? ” whispered Billy. 
For answer his father announced : ‘‘ William 

Slocum has the floor.” Billy stood up like a 
man. 

“ I just want to say that whatever college Mif- 
fins goes to, is going to be the college for all 
us fellows of the Hurdyville school that can get 
there.” He turned to Mifflns. “ We haven’t 
any choice of colors, Mifflns, but yours, whether 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


321 


it’s the blue ” — here Billy made a fine bow to 
Anstey, and the whole school interrupted with 
clapping and shouting, and startled the rest of 
the audience with the true Yale yell. Anstey 
rose in acknowledgment — “ or,” continued 
Billy, when he could be heard, “ the crimson, or 
the black and the orange, or the blue and the 
white. We’re going to wear the colors you wear, 
and swear by them, and die by them.” 

Billy sat down amid wild applause, waving of 
handkerchiefs, and the strains of the village band 
attempting in a rather wheezy manner, “ Hail 
Columbia, happy land ! ” 

Reuben Liscom rose. Come forward, Mr. 
Liscom; silence, silence. Mr. Liscom has the 
floor.” The chairman rapped sharply. 

“ I have but a few words to say, Mr. Chair- 
man. I know the city from which this boy 
comes. My brother and I were in Columbia to- 
gether, and so, for four years, I knew its streets, 
and, in part, its life. I know, as a man knows, 
its awful temptations, the many byways as well 
as highroads to ruin — and sometimes I have 
wondered if any good thing could come out of 
it. But my doubts are dispelled and my faith 
strengthened, as I stand here to-night and look 
upon this boy, a waif of those streets, entering into 
a manhood that promises so much. 

‘‘ My friends and neighbors, it is, as you know, 


322 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


the custom in great cities to confer upon a 
distinguished guest the freedom of the city, — 
in a sense, the honor of citizenship.” He turned 
to Miffins. We have, after consultation, de- 
termined to present you with this memorial of 
our love and gratitude, and ask you to accept, 
as James Anstey Foss, the freedom of the two 
villages of Barnet and Hurdyville, and do us 
the honor of looking upon yourself henceforth 
as the Little Citizen.” 

Reuben Liscom handed Miffins a roll, wiped 
the perspiration from his forehead, and sat down. 

The audience lost their heads. Speech ! 
speech ! — Miffins — James Anstey Foss — ’rah ! 
’rah ! ’rah ! — three cheers for the Little 
Citizen ! ” 

Martha had to be led from the platform, and 
poor Miffins looked appealingly, first at Anstey, 
then at Jacob. Jacob rose, and when silence was 
restored, cleared his throat. 

’Tain’t no use, I’ve got ter speak fer him 
ter-night, neighbors — ’n’ I thank ye kindly fer 
all ye’ve said ’n’ done ; it’s ben done ter me 
through my boy, James Anstey Foss.” — Cheers, 
prolonged cheers. — I’d hoped onct ” — there 
was a sob; it was Martha — “ we might er hed 
our own, but ez thet couldn’t be, our hearts air 
full of gratefulness fer what we hev. ’Twuz my 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


323 

wife’s ’speriment — not mine — ’n’ she’s the one 
ter thank fer tryin’ it.” 

Such cheers as went up for Martha Foss! 
They outdid in heartiness and vigor, if that were 
possible, all the others. 

Jim and Harry, Billy and Seth, and the rest 
of the school’s masculine contingent had disap- 
peared, and as the meeting broke up, shouts and 
the band were heard outside. 

To Jacob’s amazement, the horses had been 
taken from the wagon, the wagon itself trimmed 
with flags and greens, and decorated with Chinese 
lanterns strung on wires that had been wound 
with ground pine, and attached to four laths 
nailed in the four corners. All the boys were 
ranged, half and half, on each side of the pole, 
with stout ropes for traces. Nap was draped 
with a large flag, and his neck wreathed with 
everlasting. Anstey led him. 

Martha, Jacob, and Miflins were helped into 
the gay-looking equipage — the worthy couple 
protesting against ‘‘ sech doin’s.” The band led 
the way. The wagon followed, drawn by the 
boys, and behind it, meek, yet proud beneath his 
honors, paced Nap, with Anstey at his bridle. 

The villagers, men, women, and children, ac- 
companied the procession, cheering, singing, and 
shouting. The band wheezed and clanged. 


324 


THE LITTLE CITIZEN 


Under the inspiring strains of the “ Star Span- 
gled Banner,” Nap waltzed first on one side of 
the road, then on the other. Thus the waif of 
the streets of New York, who had travelled that 
road for the first time eighteen months before, 
was borne homeward toward the Roost — an 
acknowledged “ Little Citizen.” 


THE END. 




George Cary Eggleston’s 
Juveniles 

The Bale Marked Circle X 

A Blockade Running Adventure 

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A Story of the Mississippi 

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cover, $1.50. 

The Brooklyn Eagle says : “ Mr. George Cary Eggleston, 
the veteran editor and author, has scored a double success in 
his new book, ‘The Last of the Flatboats,’ which has just 
been published. Written primarily as a story for young 
readers, it contains many things that are of interest to older 
people. Altogether, it is a mighty good story, and well 
worth reading.” 

Lothrop Publishing Company - - Boston 



W. O. Stoddard’s Books 

THE ERRAND BOY OF ANDREW JACKSON : A War 
Story of 1812. Illustrated by Will Crawford. Cloth, 
i2mo, ^i.oo, net. Postpaid, ^1.12. 

This tale is of the War of 1812, and describes the events 
of the brilliant campaign which closed the war, — the only 
land campaign of 1812-1814 in which the Americans were 
entirely successful. 

There is a wave of interest over stories of the War of 
1812, and Mr. Stoddard’s new and stirring tale fits well in 
with this demand. 

JACK MORGAN : A Boy of 1812. Illustrated by Will 
Crawford. i2mo, cloth, $1.25. 

It is the adventures of a boy of the frontier during the 
great fight that Harrison made on land, and Perry on the 
lakes, for the security of the border. It gives a new and 
inspiriting view of the War of 1812. 

THE NOANK’S LOG: A Privateer of the Revolution. 

Illustrated by Will Crawford. i2mo, $1.25. 

The further adventures of the plucky Guert Ten Eyck, as 
as he “ went privateering ” in the Noank, and fought King 
George on land and sea. A stirring story of the Revolution. 

THE DESPATCH BOAT OF THE WHISTLE: A Story 
of Santiago. Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. i2mo, 
^1.25. 

A breezy story of a newspaper despatch boat, reporters, 
refugees, Cubans, and Spaniards in the war with Spain. 

GUERT TEN EYCK. Illustrated by Frank T. MerrUl. 
i2mo, ^1.25. 

A hero story of real American girls and boys, and how 
they helped on the American Revolution. 

THE PARTNERS. Illustrated by Albert Scott Cox. i2mo, 
$ 1 . 2 $. 

A capital story of a bright, go-ahead country girl and two 
boys who helped her keep store. 

CHUCK PURDY: A New York Boy. Illustrated. i2mo, 

^1.25. 

A delightful story of boy life in New York City. Strong, 
honest, breezy, practical, and absorbing. 

GID GRANGER: A Country Boy. Illustrated, rzmo, I1.25. 
A capital story of American life. 

Lothrop Publishing Company - - Boston 




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may 31 1902 


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1 COPY DEL. TO CAT. D1V. 
may 31 1902 

AJN. 1 1902 


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